A  LITTLE  JOURNEY  IN 
•J\  THE  WORLD.  A  Novel. 
By  CHARLES  DUDLEY  WAE^EE, 
Author  of  "Their  Pilgrimage/5 
etc. 


NEW  YORK:  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PRINTERS  6" 
PUBLISHERS,  FRANKLIN   SQUARE,  M  DCCC  LXXXIX 


Copyright,  1889,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 
All  rights  reserved. 


A  LITTLE  JOURNEY  IN  THE  WORLD, 


T. 

WE  were  talking  about  the  want  of  diversity  in 
American  life,  the  lack  of  salient  characters.  It 
was  not  at  a  club.  It  was  a  spontaneous  talk  of 
people  who  happened  to  be  together,  and  who  had 
fallen  into  an  uncompelled  habit  of  happening  to 
be  together.  There  might  have  been  a  club  for 
the  study  of  the  Want  of  Diversity  in  American 
Life.  The  members  would  have  been  obliged  to 
set  apart  a  stated  time  for  it,  to  attend  as  a  duty, 
and  to  be  in  a  mood  to  discuss  this  topic  at  a  set 
hour  in  the  future.  They  would  have  mortgaged 
another  precious  portion  of  the  little  time  left  us 
for  individual  life. 

It  is  a  suggestive  thought  that  at  a  given  hour 
all  over  the  United  States  innumerable  clubs  might 
be  considering  the  Want  of  Diversity  in  American 
Life.  Only  in  this  way,  according  to  our  present 
methods,  could  one  expect  to  accomplish  anything 
in  regard  to  this  foreign-felt  want.  It  seems  illog- 
1 


M6S8730 


2  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

ical  that  we  could  produce  diversity  by  all  doing 
the  same  thing  at  the  same  time,  but  we  know  the 
value  of  congregate  effort.  It  seems  to  superficial 
observers  that  all  Americans  are  born  busy.  It  is 
not  so.  They  are  born  with  a  fear  of  not  being 
busy;  and  if  they  are  intelligent  and  in  circum 
stances  of  leisure,  they  have  such  a  sense  of  their 
responsibility  that  they  hasten  to  allot  all  their 
time  into  portions,  and  leave  no  hour  unprovided 
for.  This  is  conscientiousness  in  women,  and  not 
restlessness.  There  is  a  day  for  music,  a  day  for 
painting,  a  day  for  the  display  of  tea-gowns,  a  day 
for  Dante,  a  day  for  the  Greek  drama,  a  day  for 
the  Dumb  Animals'  Aid  Society,  a  day  for  the  So 
ciety  for  the  Propagation  of  Indians,  and  so  on. 
When  the  year  is  over,  the  amount  that  has  been 
accomplished  by  this  incessant  activity  can  hardly 
be  estimated.  Individually  it  may  not  be  much. 
But  consider  where  Chaucer  would  be  but  for  the 
work  of  the  Chaucer  clubs,  and  what  an  effect 
upon  the  universal  progress  of  things  is  produced 
by  the  associate  concentration  upon  the  poet  of  -so 
many  minds. 

A  cynic  says  that  clubs  and  circles  are  for  the 
accumulation  of  superficial  information  and  unload 
ing  it  on  others,  without  much  individual  absorp 
tion  in  anybody.  This,  like  all  cynicism,  contains 
only  a  half-truth,  and  simply  means  that  the  gen 
eral  diffusion  of  half-digested  information  does  not 


A  ^Little  Journey  in  the  World.  3 

raise  the  general  level  of  intelligence,  which  can 
only  be  raised  to  any  purpose  by  thorough  self- 
culture,  by  assimilation,  digestion,  meditation.  The 
busy  bee  is  a  favorite  simile  with  us,  and  we  are 
apt  to  overlook  the  fact  that  the  least  important 
part  of  his  example  is  buzzing  around.  If  the  hive 
simply  got  together  and  buzzed,  or  even  brought 
unrefined  treacle  from  some  cyclopedia,  let  us  say, 
of  treacle,  there  would  be  no  honey  added  to  the 
general  store. 

It  occurred  to  some  one  in  this  talk  at  last  to 
deny  that  there  was  this  tiresome  monotony  in 
American  life.  And  this  put  a  new  face  on  the 
discussion.  "Why  should  there  be,  with  every  race 
under  the  heavens  represented  here,  and  each  one 
struggling  to  assert  itself,  and  no  homogeneity  as 
yet  established  even  between  the  people  of  the  old 
est  States?  The  theory  is  that  democracy  levels, 
and  that  the  anxious  pursuit  of  a  common  object, 
money,  tends  to  uniformity,  and  that  facility  of 
communication  spreads  all  over  the  land  the  same 
fashion  in  dress,  and  repeats  everywhere  the  same 
style  of  house,  and  that  the  public  schools  give  all 
the  children  in  the  United  States  the  same  super 
ficial  smartness.  And  there  is  a  more  serious  no 
tion,  that  in  a  society  without  classes  there  is  a  sort 
of  tyranny  of  public  opinion  which  crushes  out  the 
play  of  individual  peculiarities,  without  which  hu 
man  intercourse  is  uninteresting.  It  is  true  that  a 


4:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

democracy  is  intolerant  of  variations  from  the  gen 
eral  level,  and  that  a  neAv  society  allows  less  lati 
tude  in  eccentricities  to  its  members  than  an  old 
society. 

But  with  all  these  allowances,  it  is  also  admitted 
that  the  difficulty  the  American  novelist  has  is  in 
hitting  upon  what  is  universally  accepted  as  char 
acteristic  of  American  life,  so  various  are  the  types 
in  regions  widely  separated  from  each  other,  such 
different  points  of  view  are  had  even  in  conven 
tionalities,  and  conscience  operates  so  variously  on 
moral  problems  in  one  community  and  another. 
It  is  as  impossible  for  one  section  to  impose  upon 
another  its  rules  of  taste  and  propriety  in  conduct 
— and  taste  is  often  as  strong  to  determine  con 
duct  as  principle — as  it  is  to  make  its  literature  ac 
ceptable  to  the  other.  If  in  the  land  of  the  sun 
and  the  jasmine  and  the  alligator  and  the  fig,  the 
literature  of  New  England  seems  passionless  and 
timid  in  face  of  the  ruling  emotions  of  life,  ought 
we  not  to  thank  Heaven  for  the  diversity  of  tem 
perament  as  well  as  of  climate  which  will  in  the 
long-run  save  us  from  that  sameness  into  which  we 
are  supposed  to  be  drifting  ? 

When  I  think  of  this  vast  country  with  any  at 
tention  to  local  developments  I  am  more  impressed 
with  the  unlikenesses  than  with  the  resemblances. 
And  besides  this,  if  one  had  the  ability  to  draw  to 
the  life  a  single  individual  in  the  most  homogene- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  5 

ous  community,  the  product  would  be  sufficiently 
startling.  We  cannot  flatter  ourselves,  therefore, 
that  under  equal  laws  and  opportunities  we  have 
rubbed  out  the  saliencies  of  human  nature.  At  a 
distance  the  mass  of  the  Eussian  people  seem  as 
monotonous  as  their  steppes  and  their  commune 
villages,  but  the  Russian  novelists  find  characters 
in  this  mass  perfectly  individualized,  and,  indeed, 
give  us  the  impression  that  all  Russians  are  irregu 
lar  polygons.  Perhaps  if  our  novelists  looked  at 
individuals  as  intently,  they  might  give  the  world 
the  impression  that  social  life  here  is  as  unpleasant 
as  it  appears  in  the  novels  to  be  in  Russia. 

This  is  partly  the  substance  of  what  was  said  one 
winter  evening  before  the  wood  fire  in  the  library 
of  a  house  in  Brandon,  one  of  the  lesser  New  Eng 
land  cities.  Like  hundreds  of  residences  of  its 
kind,  it  stood  in  the  suburbs,  amid  forest  -  trees, 
commanding  a  view  of  city  spires  and  towers  on 
the  one  hand,  and  on  the  other  of  a  broken  coun 
try  of  clustering  trees  and  cottages,  rising  towards 
a  range  of  hills  which  showed  purple  and  warm 
against  the  pale  straw-color  of  the  winter  sunsets. 
The  charm  of  the  situation  was  that  the  house  was 
one  of  many  comfortable  dwellings,  each  isolated, 
and  yet  near  enough  together  to  form  a  neighbor 
hood  ;  that  is  to  say,  a  body  of  neighbors  who 
respected  each  other's  privacy,  and  yet  flowed  to 
gether,  on  occasion,  without  the  least  convention- 


6  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

ality.  And  a  real  neighborhood,  as  our  modern 
life  is  arranged,  is  becoming  more  and  more  rare. 
I  am  not  sure  that  the  talkers  in  this  conversa 
tion  expressed  their  real,  final  sentiments,  or  that 
they  should  be  held  accountable  for  what  they  said. 
Nothing  so  surely  kills  the  freedom  of  talk  as  to 
have  some  matter-of-fact  person  instantly  bring 
you  to  book  for  some  impulsive  remark  flashed  out 
on  the  instant,  instead  of  playing  with  it  and  toss 
ing  it  about  in  a  way  that  shall  expose  its  absurdi 
ty  or  show  its  value.  Freedom  is  lost  with  too 
much  responsibility  and  seriousness,  and  the  truth 
is  more  likely  to  be  struck  out  in  a  lively  play  of 
assertion  and  retort  than  when  all  the  words  and 
sentiments  are  weighed.  A  person  very  likely  can 
not  tell  what  he  does  think  till  his  thoughts  are 
exposed  to  the  air,  and  it  is  the  bright  fallacies  and 
impulsive,  rash  ventures  in  conversation  that  are 
often  most  fruitful  to  talker  and  listeners.  The 
talk  is  always  tame  if  no  one  dares  anything.  I 
have  seen  the  most  promising  paradox  come  to 
grief  by  a  simple  "  Do  you  think  so  ?"  Nobody,  I 
sometimes  think,  should  be  held  accountable  for 
anything  said  in  private  conversation,  the  vivacity 
of  which  is  in  a  tentative  play  about  the  subject. 
And  this  is  a  sufficient  reason  why  one  should  re 
pudiate  any  private  conversation  reported  in  the 
newspapers.  It  is  bad  enough  to  'be  held  fast  for 
ever  to  what  one  writes  and  prints,  but  to  shackle 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  7 

a  man  with  all  his  flashing  utterances,  which  may 
be  put  into  his  mouth  by  some  imp  in  the  air,  is 
intolerable  slavery.  A  man  had  better  be  silent  if 
he  can  only  say  to-day  what  he  will  stand  by  to 
morrow,  or  if  he  may  not  launch  into  the  general 
talk  the  whim  and  fancy  of  the  moment.  Racy, 
entertaining  talk  is  only  exposed  thought,  and  no 
one  would  hold  a  man  responsible  for  the  throng 
ing  thoughts  that  contradict  and  displace  each 
other  in  his  mind.  Probably  no  one  ever  actually 
makes  up  his  mind  until  he  either  acts  or  puts  out 
his  conclusion  beyond  his  recall.  Why  should  one 
be  debarred  the  privilege  of  pitching  his  crude 
ideas  into  a  conversation  where  they  may  have  a 
chance  of  being  precipitated  ? 

I  remember  that  Morgan  said  in  this  talk  that 
there  was  too  much  diversity.  "Almost  every 
church  has  trouble  with  it — the  different  social 
conditions." 

An  Englishman  who  was  present  pricked  up  his 
cars  at  this,  as  if  he  expected  to  obtain  a  note  on 
the  character  of  Dissenters.  "I  thought  all  the 
churches  here  were  organized  on  social  affinities  ?" 
he  inquired. 

"  Oh  no ;  it  is  a  good  deal  a  matter  of  vicinage. 
When  there  is  a  real-estate  extension,  a  necessary 
part  of  the  plan  is  to  build  a  church  in  the  centre 
of  it,  in  order  to — " 

"I   declare,  Page,"  said   Mrs.  Morgan,  "you'll 


8  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

give  Mr.  Lyon  a  totally  erroneous  notion.  Of 
course  there  must  be  a  church  convenient  to  the 
worshippers  in  every  district." 

"  That  is  just  what  I  was  saying,  my  dear.  As 
the  settlement  is  not  drawn  together  on  religious 
grounds,  but  perhaps  by  purely  Avorldly  motives, 
the  elements  that  meet  in  the  church  are  apt  to  be 
socially  incongruous,  such  as  cannot  always  be  fused 
even  by  a  church-kitchen  and  a  church-parlor." 

"  Then  it  isn't  the  peculiarity  of  the  church  that 
has  attracted  to  it  worshippers  who  would  natu 
rally  come  together,  but  the  church  is  a  neighbor 
hood  necessity  ?"  still  further  inquired  Mr.  Lyon. 

"  All  is,"  I  ventured  to  put  in,  "  that  churches 
grow  up  lika  school-houses,  where  they  are  want 
ed." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Mr.  Morgan ;  "  I'm 
talking  about  the  kind  of  want  that  creates  them. 
If  it's  the  same  that  builds  a  music  hall,  or  a  gym 
nasium,  or  a  railway  waiting-room,  I've  nothing 
more  to  say." 

"  Is  it  your  American  idea,  then,  that  a  church 
ought  to  be  formed  only  of  people  socially  agree 
able  together  ?"  asked  the  Englishman. 

"I  have  no  American  idea.  I  am  only  com 
menting  on  facts ;  but  one  of  them  is  that  it  is  the 
most  difficult  thing  in  the  world  to  reconcile  relig 
ious  association  with  the  real  or  artificial  claims  of 
social  life." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  9 

"  I  don't  think  you  try  much,"  said  Mrs.  Morgan, 
who  carried  along  her  traditional  religious  observ 
ances  with  grateful  admiration  of  her  husband. 

Mr.  Page  Morgan  had  inherited  money,  and  a 
certain  advantageous  position  for  observing  life 
and  criticising  it,  humorously  sometimes,  and  with 
out  any  serious  intention  of  disturbing  it.  He  had 
added  to  his  fair  fortune  by  marrying  the  daintily 
reared  daughter  of  a  cotton-spinner,  and  he  had 
enough  to  do  in  attending  meetings  of  directors 
and  looking  out  for  his  investments  to  keep  him 
from  the  operation  of  the  State  law  regarding  va 
grants,  and  give  greater  social  weight  to  his  opin 
ions  than  if  he  had  been  compelled  to  work  for  his 
maintenance.  The  Page  Morgans  had  been  a  good 
deal  abroad,  and  were  none  the  worse  Americans 
for  having  come  in  contact  with  the  knowledge 
that  there  are  other  peoples  who  are  reasonably 
prosperous  and  happy  without  any  of  our  advan 
tages. 

u  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  who  was  always 
in  the  conversational  attitude  of  wanting  to  know, 
"  that  you  Americans  are  disturbed  by  the  notion 
that  religion  ought  to  produce  social  equality." 

Mr.  Lyon  had  the  air  of  conveying  the  impres 
sion  that  this  question  was  settled  in  England,  and 
that  America  was  interesting  on  account  of  numer 
ous  experiments  of  this  sort.  This  state  of  mind 
was  not  offensive  to  his  interlocutors,  because  they 


10  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

were  accustomed  to  it  in  transatlantic  visitors. 
Indeed,  there  was  nothing  whatever  offensive,  and 
little  defensive,  in  Mr.  John  Lyon.  What  we  liked 
in  him,  I  think,  was  his  simple  acceptance  of  a  po 
sition  that  required  neither  explanation  nor  apolo 
gy — a  social  condition  that  banished  a  sense  of  his 
own  personality,  and  left  him  perfectly  free  to  be 
absolutely  truthful.  Though  an  eldest  son  and 
next  in  succession  to  an  earldom,  he  was  still 
young.  Fresh  from  Oxford  and  South  Africa  and 
Australia  and  British  Columbia,  he  had  come  to 
"  study  "  the  States  with  a  view  of  perfecting  him 
self  for  his  duties  as  a  legislator  for  the  world  when 
he  should  be  called  to  the  House  of  Peers.  lie  did 
not  treat  himself  like  an  earl,  whatever  conscious 
ness  he  may  have  had  that  his  prospective  rank 
made  it  safe  for  him  to  flirt  with  the  various  forms 
of  equality  abroad  in  this  generation. 

"  I  don't  know  what  Christianity  is  expected  to 
produce,"  Mr.  Morgan  replied,  in  a  meditative  way ; 
"  but  I  have  an  idea  that  the  early  Christians  in 
their  assemblies  all  knew  each  other,  having  met 
elsewhere  in  social  intercourse,  or,  if  they  were  not 
acquainted,  they  lost  sight  of  distinctions  in  one 
paramount  interest.  But  then  I  don't  suppose  they 
were  exactly  civilized." 

"Were  the  Pilgrims  and  the  Puritans?"  asked 
Mrs.  Fletcher,  who  now  joined  the  talk,  in  which 
she  had  been  a  most  animated  and  stimulating  lis- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  11 

tener,  her  deep  gray  eyes  dancing  with  intellectual 
pleasure.) 

"  I  should  not  like  to  answer  4  no '  to  a  descend 
ant  of  the  Mayflower.  Yes,  they  were  highly  civ 
ilized.  And  if  we  had  adhered  to  their  methods, 
we  should  have  avoided  a  good  deal  of  confusion. 
The  meeting-house,  you  remember,  had  a  commit 
tee  for  seating  people  according  to  their  qualit}^. 
They  were  very  shrewd,  but  it  had  not  occurred  to 
them  to  give  the  best  pews  to  the  sitters  able  to 
pay  the  most  money  for  them.  They  escaped  the 
perplexity  of  reconciling  the  mercantile  and  the 
religious  ideas." 

"  At  any  rate,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher,  "  they  got  all 
sorts  of  people  inside  the  same  meeting-house." 

"  Yes,  and  made  them  feel  they  were  all  sorts ; 
but  in  those  days  they  were  not  much  disturbed  by 
that  feeling." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,"  asked  Mr.  Lyon,  "  that 
in  this  country  you  have  churches  for  the  rich  and 
other  churches  for  the  poor  ?" 

"  Not  at  all.  "We  have  in  the  cities  rich  churches 
and  poor  churches,  with  prices  of  pews  according 
to  the  means  of  each  sort,  and  the  rich  are  always 
glad  to  have  the  poor  come,  and  if  they  do  not 
give  them  the  best  seats,  they  equalize  it  by  taking 
up  a  collection  for  them." 

"  Mr.  Lyon,"  Mrs.  Morgan  interrupted,  "  you  are 
getting  a  travesty  of  the  whole  thing.  I  don't  be- 


12  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

iieve  there  is  elsewhere  in  the  world  such  a  spir 
it  of  Christian  charity  as  in  our  churches  of  all 
sects." 

"  There  is  no  doubt  about  the  charity ;  but  that 
doesn't  seem  to  make  the  social  machine  run  any 
more  smoothly  in  the  church  associations.  I'm  not 
sure  but  we  shall  have  to  go  back  to  the  old  idea 
of  considering  the  churches  places  of  worship,  and 
not  opportunities  for  sewing-societies  and  the  culti 
vation  of  social  equality." 

"  I  found  the  idea  in  Rome,"  said  Mr.  Lyon, 
"  that  the  United  States  is  now  the  most  promising 
field  for  the  spread  and  permanence  of  the  Roman 
Catholic  faith." 

"  How  is  that  ?"  Mr.  Fletcher  asked,  with  a  smile 
of  Puritan  incredulity.  * 

"  A  high  functionary  at  the  Propaganda  gave  as 
a  reason  that  the  United  States  is  the  most  demo 
cratic  country  and  the  Roman  Catholic  is  the  most 
democratic  religion,  having  this  one  notion  that  all 
men,  high  or  low,  are  equally  sinners  and  equally 
in  need  of  one  thing  only.  And  I  must  say  that 
in  this  country  I  don't  find  the  question  of  social 
equality  interfering  much  with  the  work  in  their 
churches." 

"  That  is  because  they  are  not  trying  to  make 
this  world  any  better,  but  only  to  prepare  for  an 
other,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

"  Now,  we  think  that  the  nearer  we  approach  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  13 

kingdom-of -heaven  idea  on  earth,  the  better  off  we 
shall  be  hereafter.  Is  that  a  modern  idea  ?" 

"  It  is  an  idea  that  is  giving  us  a  great  deal  of 
trouble.  We've  got  into  such  a  sophisticated  state 
that  it  seems  easier  to  take  care  of  the  future  than 
of  the  present." 

"And  it  isn't  a  very  bad  doctrine  that  if  you 
take  care  of  the  present,  the  future  will  take  care 
of  itself,"  rejoined  Mrs.  Fletcher. 

"Yes,  I  know,"  insisted  Mr.  Morgan ;  "  it's  the 
modern  notion  of  accumulation  and  compensation 
—take  care  of  the  pennies  and  the  pounds  will  take 
care  of  themselves — the  gospel  of  Benjamin  Frank 
lin." 

"Ah,"  I  said,  looking  up  at  the  entrance  of  a 
new-comer,  "you  are  just  in  time,  Margaret,  to 
give  the  coup  de  grace,  for  it  is  evident  by  Mr. 
Morgan's  reference,  in  his  Bunker  Hill  position,  to 
Franklin,  that  he  is  getting  out  of  powder." 

The  girl  stood  a  moment,  her  slight  figure  framed 
in  the  door-way,  while  the  company  rose  to  greet 
her,  with  a  half -hesitating,  half -inquiring  look  in 
her  bright  face  which  I  had  seen  in  it  a  thousand 
times. 


II. 

I  REMEMBER  that  it  came  upon  me  with  a  sort  of 
surprise  at  the  moment  that  we  had  never  thought 
or  spoken  much  of  Margaret  Debree  as  beautiful. 
We  were  so  accustomed  to  her,  Ave  had  known  her 
so  long,  we  had  known  her  always.  We  had  never 
analyzed  our  admiration  of  her.  She  had  so  many 
qualities  that  are  better  than  beauty  that  we  had 
not  credited  her  with  the  more  obvious  attraction. 
And  perhaps  she  had  just  become  visibly  beautiful. 
It  may  be  that  there  is  an  instant  in  a  girl's  life 
corresponding  to  what  the  Puritans  called  conver 
sion  in  the  soul,  when  the  physical  qualities,  long 
maturing,  suddenly  glow  in  an  effect  which  we  call 
beauty.  It  cannot  be  that  women  do  not  have  a 
consciousness  of  it,  perhaps  of  the  instant  of  its  ad 
vent.  I  remember  when  I  was  a  child  that  I  used 
to  think  that  a  stick  of  peppermint  candy  must 
burn  with  a  consciousness  of  its  own  deliciousness. 

Margaret  was  just  turned  twenty.  As  she  paused 
there  in  the  door- way  her  physical  perfection  flash 
ed  upon  me  for  the  first  time.  Of  course  I  do  not 
mean  perfection,  for  perfection  has  no  promise  in 
it,  rather  the  sad  note  of  limit,  and  presently  reces- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  15 

sion.  In  the  rounded,  exquisite  lines  of  her  figure 
there  was  the  promise  of  that  ineffable  fulness  and 
delicacy  of  womanhood  Avhich  all  the  world  raves 
about  and  destroys  and  mourns.  It  is  not  fulfilled 
always  in  the  most  beautiful,  and  perhaps  never 
except  to  the  woman  who  loves  passionately,  and 
believes  she  is  loved  with  a  devotion  that  exalts  her 
body  and  soul  above  every  other  human  being. 

It  is  certain  that  Margaret's  beauty  wras  not  clas 
sic.  Her  features  were  irregular  even  to  piquancy. 
The  chin  had  strength ;  the  mouth  was  sensitive 
and  not  too  small ;  the  shapely  nose  with  thin  nos 
trils  had  an  assertive  quality  that  contradicted  the 
impression  of  humility  in  the  eyes  when  downcast ; 
the  large  gray  eyes  were  uncommonly  soft  and 
clear,  an  appearance  of  alternate  tenderness  and 
brilliancy  as  they  were  veiled  or  uncovered  by  the 
long  lashes.  They  were  gently  commanding  eyes, 
and  no  doubt  her  most  effective  point.  Her  abun 
dant  hair,  brown  with  a  touch  of  red  in  it  in  some 
lights,  fell  over  her  broad  forehead  in  the  fashion 
of  the  time.  She  had  a  way  of  carrying  her  head, 
of  throwing  it  back  at  times,  that  was  not  exactly 
imperious,  and  conveyed  the  impression  of  spirit 
rather  than  of  mere  vivacity.  These  details  seem 
to  me  all  inadequate  and  misleading,  for  the  attrac 
tion  of  the  face  that  made  it  interesting  is  still  un 
defined.  I  hesitate  to  say  that  there  was  a  dimple 
near  the  corner  of  her  mouth  that  revealed  itself 


16  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

when  she  smiled  lest  this  shall  seem  mere  pretti- 
ness,  but  it  may  have  been  the  key-note  of  her  face. 
I  only  knew  there  was  something  about  it  that 
won  the  heart,  as  a  too  conscious  or  assertive  beau 
ty  never  does.  She  may  have  been  plain,  and  I 
may  have  seen  the  loveliness  of  her  nature, -which 
I  knew  so  well,  in  features  that  gave  less  sign  of  it 
to  strangers.  Yet  I  noticed  that  Mr.  Lyon  gave 
her  a  quick  second  glance,  and  his  manner  was  in 
stantly  that  of  deference,  or  at  least  attention, 
which  he  had  shown  to  no  other  lady  in  the  room. 
And  the  whimsical  idea  came  into  my  mind — we 
are  all  so  warped  by  international  possibilities — to 
observe  whether  she  did  not  walk  like  a  countess 
(that  is,  as  a  countess  ought  to  walk)  as  she  ad 
vanced  to  shake  hands  with  my  wife.  It  is  so  easy 
to  turn  life  into  a  comedy  !  _l 

Margaret's  great -grandmother — no,  it  was  her 
great -great -grandmother,  but  we  have  kept  the 
Revolutionary  period  so  warm  lately  that  it  seems 
near — was  a  Newport  belle,  who  married  an  officer 
in  the  suite  of  Rochambeau  what  time  the  French 
defenders  of  liberty  conquered  the  women  of  Rhode 
Island.  After  the  war  was  over,  our  officer  re 
signed  his  love  of  glory  for  the  heart  of  one  of  the 
loveliest  women  and  the  care  of  the  best  plantation 
on  the  Island.  I  have  seen  a  miniature  of  her, 
which  her  lover  wore  at  Yorktown,  and  which  he 
always  swore  that  Washington  coveted — a  minia- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  17 

ture  painted  by  a  wandering  artist  of  the  day, 
which  entirely  justifies  the  French  officer  in  his 
abandonment  of  the  trade  of  a  soldier.  Such  is 
man  in  his  best  estate.  A  charming  face  can  make 
him  campaign  and  fight  and  slay  like  a  demon,  can 
make  a  coward  of  him,  can  fill  him  with  ambition 
to  win  the  world,  and  can  tame  him  into  the  do 
mesticity  of  a  drawing-room  cat.  There  is  this  noble ! 
capacity  in  man  to  respond  to  the  divinest  thing 
visible  to  him  in  this  world.  Etienne  Debree  be 
came,  I  believe,  a  very  good  citizen  of  the  republic, 
and  in  '93  used  occasionally  to  shake  his  head  with 
satisfaction  to  find  that  it  was  still  on  his  shoul 
ders.  I  am  not  sure  that  he  ever  visited  Mount 
Yernon,  but  after  Washington's  death  Debree's  in 
timacy  with  our  first  President  became  a  more  and 
more  important  part  of  his  life  and  conversation. 
There  is  a  pleasant  tradition  that  Lafayette,  when 
he  was  here  in  1784,  embraced  the  young  bride  in 
the  French  manner,  and  that  this  salute  was  valued 
as  a  sort  of  heirloom  in  the  family. 

I  always  thought  that  Margaret  inherited  her 
JSTew  England  conscience  from  her  great -great- 
grandmother,  and  a  certain  esprit  or  gayety — that 
is,  a  sub-gay ety  which  was  never  frivolity  —  from 
her  French  ancestor.  Her  father  and  mother  had 
died  when  she  was  ten  years  old,  and  she  had  been 
reared  by  a  maiden  aunt,  with  whom  she  still  lived. 
The  combined  fortunes  of  both  required  economy, 


18  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

and  after  Margaret  had  passed  her  school  course 
she  added  to  their  resources  by  teaching  in  a  pub 
lic  school.  I  remember  that  she  taught  history, 
following,  I  suppose,  the  American  notion  that  any 
one  can  teach  history  who  has  a  text-book,  just  as 
he  or  she  can  teach  literature  with  the  same  help. 
But  it  happened  that  Margaret  was  a  better  teach 
er  than  many,  because  she  had  not  learned  history 
in  school,  but  in  her  father's  well-selected  library. 

There  was  a  little  stir  at  Margaret's  entrance; 
Mr.  Lyon  was  introduced  to  her,  and  my  wife,  with 
that  subtle  feeling  for  effect  which  women  have, 
slightly  changed  the  lights.  Perhaps  Margaret's 
complexion  or  her  black  dress  made  this  readjust 
ment  necessary  to  the  harmony  of  the  room.  Per 
haps  she  felt  the  presence  of  a  different  tempera 
ment  in  the  little  circle.  I  never  can  tell  exactly 
what  it  is  that  guides  her  in  regard  to  the  influence 
of  light  and  color  upon  the  intercourse  of  people, 
upon  their  conversation,  making  it  take  one  cast  or 
another.  Men  are  susceptible  to  these  influences, 
but  it  is  women  alone  who  understand  how  to  pro 
duce  them.  And  a  woman  who  has  not  this  subtle 
feeling  always  lacks  charm,  however  intellectual 
she  may  be ;  I  always  think  of  her  as  sitting  in  the 
glare  of  disenchanting  sunlight  as  indifferent  to 
the  exposure  as  a  man  would  be,  I  know  in  a 
general  way  that  a  sunset  light  induces  one  kind 
of  talk  and  noonday  light  another,  and  I  have 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  19 

learned  that  talk  always  brightens  up  with  the  ad 
dition  of  a  fresh  crackling  stick  to  the  fire.  I 
shouldn't  have  known  how  to  change  the  lights  for 
Margaret,  although  I  think  I  had  as  distinct  an 
impression  of  her  personality  as  had  my  wife. 
There  was  nothing  disturbing  in  it ;  indeed,  I  never 
saw  her  otherwise  than  serene,  even  when  her  voice 
betrayed  strong  emotion.  The  quality  that  im 
pressed  me  most,  however,  was  her  sincerity,  coupled 
with  intellectual  courage  and  clearness  that  had 
almost  the  effect  of  brilliancy,  though  I  never 
thought  of  her  as  a  brilliant  woman. 

"  What  mischief  have  you  been  attempting,  Mr. 
Morgan  ?"  asked  Margaret,  as  she  took  a  chair  near 
him.  "  Were  you  trying  to  make  Mr.  Lyon  com 
fortable  by  dragging  in  Bunker  Hill  ?" 

"  No ;  that  was  Mr.  Fairchild,  in  his  capacity  as 
host." 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure  you  needn't  mind  me,"  said  Mr. 
Lyon,  good-humoredly.  "  I  landed  in  Boston,  and 
the  first  thing  I  went  to  see  was  the  Monument. 
It  struck  me  as  so  odd,  you  know,  that  the  Ameri 
cans  should  begin  life  by  celebrating  their  first  de 
feat." 

"That  is  our  way,"  replied  Margaret,  quickly. 
"  We  have  started  on  a  new  basis  over  here ;  we 
win  by  losing.  He  who  loses  his  life  shall  find  it. 
If  the  red  slayer  thinks  he  slays  he  is  mistaken. 
You  know  the  Southerners  say  that  they  surren- 


20  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

dered  at  last  simply  because  they  got  tired  of  beat 
ing  the  North." 

"  How  odd !" 

"  Miss  Debree  simply  means,"  I  explained,  "  that 
we  have  inherited  from  the  English  an  inability  to 
know  when  we  are  whipped." 

"  But  we  were  not  fighting  the  battle  of  Bunker 
Hill,  or  fighting  about  it,  which  is  more  serious, 
Miss  Debree.  What  I  wanted  to  ask  you  was 
whether  you  think  the  domestication  of  religion 
will  affect  its  power  in  the  regulation  of  conduct." 

"  Domestication  ?  You  are  too  deep  for  me,  Mr. 
Morgan.  I  don't  any  more  understand  you  than  I 
comprehend  the  writers  who  write  about  the  femi- 
nization  of  literature." 

"  Well,  taking  the  mystery  out  of  it,  the  predom 
inant  element  of  worship,  making  the  churches  sort 
of  good-will  charitable  associations  for  the  spread 
of  sociability  and  good-feeling." 

"  You  mean  making  Christianity  practical  ?" 

"Partially  that.  It  is  a  part  of  the  general 
problem  of  what  women  are  going  to  make  of  the 
world,  now  they  have  got  hold  of  it,  or  are  getting 
hold  of  it,  and  are  discontented  with  being  women, 
or  with  being  treated  as  women,  and  are  bringing 

O  '  o        O 

their  emotions  into  all  the  avocations  of  life." 
"  They  cannot  make  it  any  worse  than  it  has 

been." 

"  I'm  not  sure  of  that.     Robustness  is  needed  in 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  21 

churches  as  much  as  in  government.  I  don't  know 
how  much  the  cause  of  religion  is  advanced  by 
these  church  clubs  of  Christian  Endeavor,  if  that  is 
the  name,  associations  of  young  boys  and  girls  who 
go  about  visiting  other  like  clubs  in  a  sufficiently 
hilarious  manner.  I  suppose  it's  the  spirit  of  the 
age.  I'm  just  wondering  whether  the  world  is 
getting  to  think  more  of  having  a  good  time  than 
it  is  of  salvation." 

"And  you  think  woman's  influence  —  for  you 
cannot  mean  anything  else — is  somehow  taking 
the  vigor  out  of  affairs,  making  even  the  church  a 
soft,  purring  affair,  reducing  us  all  to  what  I  sup 
pose  you  would  call  a  mush  of  domesticity." 

"  Or  femininity." 

"Well,  the  world  has  been  brutal  enough;  it 
had  better  try  a  little  femininity  now." 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  be  more  cruel  to  women." 

"  That  is  not  an  argument ;  that  is  a  stab.  I 
fancy  you  are  altogether  sceptical  about  woman. 
Do  you  believe  in  her  education  ?" 

"  Up  to  a  certain  point,  or  rather,  I  should  say, 
after  a  certain  point." 

"  That's  it,"  spoke  up  my  wife,  shading  her  eyes 
from  the  fire  with  a  fan.  "  I  begin  to  have  my 
doubts  about  education  as  a  panacea.  I've  noticed 
that  girls  with  only  a  smattering — and  most  of 
them  in  the  nature  of  things  can  go  no  further — 
are  more  liable  to  temptations." 


22  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  That  is  because  '  education '  is  mistaken  for 
the  giving  of  information  without  training,  as  we 
are  finding  out  in  England,"  said  Mr.  Lyon, 

"  Or  that  it  is  dangerous  to  awaken  the  imagi 
nation  without  a  heavy  ballast  of  principle,"  said 
Mr.  Morgan. 

"  That  is  a  beautiful  sentiment,"  Margaret  ex 
claimed,  throwing  back  her  head,  with  a  flash  from 
her  eyes.  "  That  ought  to  shut  out  women  entire 
ly.  Only  I  cannot  see  how  teaching  women  what 
men  know  is  going  to  give  them  any  less  principle 
than  men  have.  It  has  seemed  to  me  a  long  while 
that  the  time  has  come  for  treating  women  like 
human  beings,  and  giving  them  the  responsibility 
of  their  position." 

"  And  what  do  you  want,  Margaret  ?"  I  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  exactly  what  I  do  want,"  she  an 
swered,  sinking  back  in  her  chair,  sincerity  coming 
to  modify  her  enthusiasm.  "I  don't  want  to  go 
to  Congress,  or  be  a  sheriff,  or  a  lawyer,  or  a  loco 
motive  engineer.  I  want  the  freedom  of  my  own 
being,  to  be  interested  in  everything  in  the  world, 
to  feel  its  life  as  men  do.  You  don't  know  what 
it  is  to  have  an  inferior  person  condescend  to  you 
simply  because  he  is  a  man." 

"  Yet  you  wish  to  be  treated  as  a  woman  ?"  que 
ried  Mr.  Morgan. 

"Of  course.  Do  you  think  I  want  to  banish 
romance  out  of  the  world  ?" 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  23 

"  You  are  right,  my  dear,"  said  my  wife.  "  The 
only  thing  that  makes  society  any  better  than  an 
industrial  ant-hill  is  the  love  between  women  and 
men,  blind  and  destructive  as  it  often  is." 

"  "Well,"  said  Mrs.  Morgan,  rising  to  go,  "  having 
got  back  to  first  principles — 

"  You  think  it  is  best  to  take  your  husband  home 
before  he  denies  even  them,"  Mr.  Morgan  added. 

When  the  others  had  gone,  Margaret  sat  by  the 
fire,  musing,  as  if  no  one  else  were  in  the  room. 
The  Englishman,  still  alert  and  eager  for  informa 
tion,  regarded  her  with  growing  interest.  It  came 
into  my  mind  as  odd  that,  being  such  an  uninter 
esting  people  as  we  are,  the  English  should  be  so 
curious  about  us.  After  an  interval,  Mr.  Lyon 
said : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Debree,  but  would  you 
mind  telling  me  whether  the  movement  of  Wom 
en's  Rights  is  gaining  in  America  CC 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,  Mr.  Lyon,"  Margaret 
replied,  after  a  pause,  with  a  look  of  weariness. 
"  I'm  tired  of  all  the  talk  about  it.  I  wish  men 
and  women,  every  soul  of  them,  would  try  to  make 
the  most  of  themselves,  and  see  what  would  come 
of  that." 

"But  in  some  places  they  vote  about  schools, 
and  you  have  conventions — 

"Did  you  ever  attend  any  kind  of  convention 
yourself,  Mr.  Lyon  ?" 


24  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"I?     No.     Why?" 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Neither  did  I.  But  you  have  a 
right  to,  you  know.  I  should  like  to  ask  you  one 
question,  Mr.  Lyon,"  the  girl  continued,  rising. 

"  Should  be  most  obliged." 

"  Why  is  it  that  so  few  English  women  marry 
Americans  ?" 

"  I — I  never  thought  of  that,"  he  stammered, 
reddening.  "Perhaps  —  perhaps  it's  because  of 
American  women." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Margaret,  with  a  little  court 
esy.  "  It's  very  nice  of  you  to  say  that.  I  can  be 
gin  to  see  now  why  so  many  American  women 
marry  Englishmen." 

The  Englishman  blushed  still  more,  and  Mar 
garet  said  good-night. 

It  was  quite  evident  the  next  day  that  Margaret 
had  made  an  impression  on  our  visitor,  and  that  he 
was  struggling  with  some  new  idea. 

"  Did  you  say,  Mrs.  Fairchild,"  he  asked  my 
wife,  "  that  Miss  Debree  is  a  teacher  2  It  seems 
very  odd." 

"  No  ;  I  said  she  taught  in  one  of  our  schools.  I 
don't  think  she  is  exactly  a  teacher." 

"  Not  intending  always  to  teach  ?" 

"  I  don't  suppose  she  has  any  definite  intentions, 
but  I  never  think  of  her  as  a  teacher." 

"  She's  so  bright,  and  —  and  interesting,  don't 
you  think  ?  So  American  ?" 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  25 

"  Yes ;  Miss  Debree  is  one  of  the  exceptions." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that  all  American  women 
were  as  clever  as  Miss  Debree." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  my  wife.  And  Mr:  Lyon 
looked  as  if  he  couldn't  see  why  she  should  thank 
him. 

The  cottage  in  which  Margaret  lived  with  her 
aunt,  Miss  Forsythe,  was  not  far  from  our  house. 
In  summer  it  was  very  pretty,  with  its  vine-shaded 
veranda  across  the  front ;  and  even  in  winter,  with 
the  inevitable  raggedness  of  deciduous  vines,  it  had 
an  air  of  refinement,  a  promise  which  the  cheerful 
interior  more  than  fulfilled.  Margaret's  parting 
word  to  my  wife  the  night  before  had  been  that 
she  thought  her  aunt  would  like  to  see  the  "  chrysa 
lis  earl,"  and  as  Mr.  Lyon  had  expressed  a  desire 
to  see  something  more  of  what  he  called  the  "  gen 
try  "  of  New  England,  my  wife  ended  their  after 
noon  walk  at  Miss  Forsythe's. 

It  was  one  of  the  winter  da}^s  which  are  rare  in 
New  England,  but  of  which  there  had  been  a  suc 
cession  all  through  the  Christmas  holidays.  Snow 
had  not  yet  come,  all  the  earth  was  brown  and 
frozen,  whichever  way  you  looked  the  interlacing 
branches  and  twigs  of  the  trees  made  a  delicate 
lace-work,  the  sky  was  gray-blue,  and  the  low-sail 
ing  sun  had  just  enough  heat  to  evoke  moisture 
from  the  frosty  ground  and  suffuse  the  atmosphere 
into  softness,  in  which  all  the  landscape  became 


26  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

poetic.  The  phenomenon  known  as  "  red  sunsets  " 
was  faintly  repeated  in  the  greenish  crimson  glow 
along  the  violet  hills,  in  which  Venus  burned  like 
a  jewel. 

There  was  a  fire  smouldering  on  the  hearth  in 
the  room  they  entered,  which  seemed  to  be  sitting- 
room,  library,  parlor,  all  in  one;  ,the  old  table  of 
oak,  too  substantial  for  ornament,  was  strewn  with 
late  periodicals  and  pamphlets — English,  American, 
and  French — and  with  books  which  lay  unarranged 
as  they  were  thrown  down  from  recent  reading. 
In  the  centre  was  a  bunch  of  red  roses  in  a  pale- 
blue  Granada  jug.  Miss  Forsythe  rose  from  a 
seat  in  the  western  window,  with  a  book  in  her 
hand,  to  greet  her  callers.  She  was  slender,  like 
Margaret,  but  taller,  with  soft  brown  eyes  and 
hair  streaked  with  gray,  which,  sweeping  plain 
ly  aside  from  her  forehead  in  a  fashion  then  anti 
quated,  contrasted  finely  with  the  flush  of  pink  in 
her  cheeks.  This  flush  did  not  suggest  youth,  but 
rather  ripeness,  the  tone  that  comes  with  the  lines 
made  in  the  face  by  gentle  acceptance  of  the  in 
evitable  in  life.  In  her  quiet  and  self-possessed 
manner  there  was  a  little  note  of  graceful  timidi 
ty,  not  perhaps  noticeable  in  itself,  but  in  contrast 
with  that  unmistakable  air  of  confidence  which  a 
woman  married  always  has,  and  which  in  the  unre 
fined  becomes  assertive,  an  exaggerated  notion  of 
her  importance,  of  the  value  added  to  her  opinions 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  27 

by  the  act  of  marriage.  You  can  see  it  in  her  air 
the  moment  she  walks  away  from  the  altar,  keep 
ing  step  to  Mendelssohn's  tune.  Jack  Sharpley 
says  that  she  always  seems  to  be  saying,  "  Well, 
I've  done  it  once  for  all."  This  assumption  of  the 
married  must  be  one  of  the  hardest  things  for  sin 
gle  women  to  bear  in  their  self  -  congratulating 
sisters. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  Georgiana  Forsythe  was 
a  charming  girl,  spirited  and  handsome ;  for  the 
beauty  of  her  years,  almost  pathetic  in  its  dignity 
and  self-renunciation,  could  not  have  followed  mere 
prettiness  or  a  commonplace  experience.  What 
that  had  been  I  never  inquired,  but  it  had  not 
soured  her.  She  was  not  communicative  nor  con 
fidential,  I  fancy,  with  any  one,  but  she  was  always 
friendly  and  sympathetic  to  the  trouble  of  others, 
and  helpful  in  an  undemonstrative  way.  If  she 
herself  had  a  secret  feeling  that  her  life  was  a 
failure,  it  never  impressed  her  friends  so,  it  was  so 
even,  and  full  of  good  offices  and  quiet  enjoyment. 
Heaven  only  knows,  however,  .the  pathos  of  this 
apparently  undisturbed  life.  For  did  a  woman 
ever  live  who  would  not  give  all  the  years  of  taste 
less  serenity,  for  one  year,  for  one  month,  for  one 
hour,  of  the  uncalculating  delirium  of  love  poured 
out  upon  a  man  who  returned  it  ? 

It  may  be  better  for  the  world  that  there  are 
these  women  to  whom  life  has  still  some  mys- 


28  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

teries,  who  are  capable  of  illusions  and  the  sweet 
sentimentality  that  grows  out  of  a  romance  unre 
alized. 

Although  the  recent  books  were  on  Miss  For- 
sythe's  table,  her  tastes  and  culture  were  of  the 
past  age.  She  admired  Emerson  and  Tennyson. 
One  may  keep  current  with  the  news  of  the  world 
without  changing  his  principles.  I  imagine  that 
Miss  Forsythe  read  without  injury  to  herself  the 
passionate  and  the  pantheistic  novels  of  the  young 
women  who  have  come  forward  in  these  days  of 
emancipation  to  teach  their  grandmothers  a  new 
basis  of  morality,  and  to  render  meaningless  all 
the  consoling  epitaphs  on  the  mossy  New  England 
grave  -  stones.  She  read  Emerson  for  his  sweet 
spirit,  for  his  belief  in  love  and  friendship,  her  sim 
ple  Congregationalist  faith  remaining  undisturbed 
by  his  philosophy,  from  which  she  took  only  a 
habit  of  toleration. 

"  Miss  Debree  has  gone  to  church,"  she  said,  in 
answer  to  Mr.  Lyon's  glance  around  the  room. 

"  To  vespers  ?" 

"  I  believe  they  call  it  that.  Our  evening  meet 
ings,  you  know,  only  begin  at  early  candlelight." 

"  And  you  do  not  belong  to  the  Church  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  to  the  ancient  aristocratic  church  of 
colonial  times,"  she  replied,  with  a  little  smile  of 
amusement.  "  My  niece  has  stepped  off  Plymouth 
Rock." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  29 

"  And  was  your  religion  founded  on  Plymouth 
Rock?" 

"  My  niece  says  so  when  I  rally  her  on  deserting 
the  faith  of  her  fathers,"  replied  Miss  Forsythe, 
laughing  at  the  working  of  the  Episcopalian  mind. 

"  I  should  like  to  understand  about  that ;  I  mean 
about  the  position  of  Dissenters  in  America." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  could  not  help  you,  Mr.  Lyon.  I 
fancy  an  Englishman  would  have  to  be  born  again, 
as  the  phrase  used  to  be,  to  comprehend  that." 

While  Mr.  Lyon  was  still  unsatisfied  on  this 
point,  he  found  the  conversation  shifted  to  the 
other  side.  Perhaps  it  was  a  new  experience  to 
him  that  women  should  lead  and  not  follow  in  con 
versation.  At  any  rate,  it  was  an  experience  that 
put  him  at  his  ease.  Miss  Forsythe  was  a  great 
admirer  of  Gladstone  and  of  General  Gordon,  and 
she  expressed  her  admiration  with  a  knowledge 
that  showed  she  had  read  the  English  newspapers. 

"  Yet  I  confess  I  don't  comprehend  Gladstone's 
conduct  with  regard  to  Egypt  and  Gordon's  relief," 
she  said. 

"  Perhaps,"  interposed  my  wife,  "  it  would  have 
been  better  for  Gordon  if  he  had  trusted  Provi 
dence  more  and  Gladstone  less." 

"  I  suppose  it  was  Gladstone's  humanity  that 
made  him  hesitate." 

"To  bombard  Alexandria?"  asked  Mr.  Lyon, 
with  a  look  of  asperity. 


30  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"That  was  a  mistake  to  be  expected  of  a  Tory, 
but  not  of  Mr.  Gladstone,  who  seems  always  seek 
ing  the  broadest  principles  of  justice  in  his  states 
manship." 

"  Yes,  we  regard  Mr.  Gladstone  as  a  very  great 
man,  Miss  Forsythe.  He  is  broad  enough.  You 
know  we  consider  him  a  rhetorical  phenomenon. 
Unfortunately  he  always  '  muffs '  anything  he 
touches." 

"I  suspected,"  Miss  Forsythe  replied,  after  a 
moment,  "  that  party  spirit  ran  as  high  in  England 
as  it  does  with  us,  and  is  as  personal." 

Mr.  Lyon  disclaimed  any  personal  feeling,  and 
the  talk  drifted  into  a  comparison  of  English  and 
American  politics,  mainly  with  reference  to  the  so 
cial  factor  in  English  politics,  which  is  so  little  an 
element  here. 

In  the  midst  of  the  talk  Margaret  came  in.  The 
brisk  walk  in  the  rosy  twilight  had  heightened  her 
color,  and  given  her  a  glowing  expression  which 
her  face  had  not  the  night  before,  and  a  tenderness 
and  softness,  an  unworldliness,  brought  from  the 
quiet  hour  in  the  church. 

• 

"My  lady  comes  at  last, 
Timid  and  stepping  fast, 

And  hastening  hither, 
Her  modest  eyes  downcast." 

She  greeted  the  stranger  with  a  Puritan  undemon- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  31 

strativeness,  and  as  if  not  exactly  aware  of  his 
presence. 

"  I  should  like  to  have  gone  to  vespers  if  I  had 
known,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  after  an  embarrassing 
pause. 

u  Yes  2"  asked  the  girl,  still  abstractedly.  "  The 
world  seems  in  a  vesper  mood,"  she  added,  looking 
out  the  west  windows  at  the  red  sky  and  the  even 
ing-star. 

In  truth  Nature  herself  at  the  moment  suggested 
that  talk  was  an  impertinence.  The  callers  rose 
to  go,  with  an  exchange  of  neighborhood  friendli 
ness  and  invitations. 

"  I  had  no  idea,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  as  they  walked 
homeward,  "  what  the  New  World  was  like." 


III. 

ME.  LYON'S  invitation  was  for  a  week.  Before 
the  end  of  the  week  I  was  called  to  New  York  to 
consult  Mr.  Henderson  in  regard  to  a  railway  in 
vestment  in  the  West,  which  was  turning  out  more 
permanent  than  profitable.  Rodney  Henderson — 
the  name  later  became  very  familiar  to  the  public 
in  connection  with  a  certain  Congressional  investi 
gation — was  a  graduate  of  my  own  college,  a  New 
Hampshire  boy,  a  lawyer  by  profession,  who  prac 
tised,  as  so  many  American  lawyers  do,  in  Wall 
Street,  in  political  combinations,  in  Washington,  in 
railways.  He  was  already  known  as  a  rising  man. 

When  I  returned,  Mr.  Lyon  was  still  at  our 
house.  I  understood  that  my  wife  had  persuaded 
him  to  extend  his  visit — a  proposal  he  was  little 
reluctant  to  fall  in  with,  so  interested  had  he  be 
come  in  studying  social  life  in  America.  I  could 
well  comprehend  this,  for  we  are  all  making  a 
"  study "  of  something  in  this  age,  simple  enjoy 
ment  being  considered  an  unworthy  motive.  I 
was  glad  to  see  that  the  young  Englishman  was 
improving  himself,  broadening  his  knowledge  of 
life,  and  not  wasting  the  golden  hours  of  youth. 


A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  33 

Experience  is  what  we  all  need,  and  though  love 
or  love-making  cannot  be  called  a  novelty,  there  is 
something  quite  fresh  about  the  study  of  it  in  the 
modern  spirit.^y 

Mr.  Lyon  had  made  himself  very  agreeable  to 
the  little  circle,  not  less  by  his  inquiring  spirit  than 
by  his  unaffected  manners,  by  a  kind  of  simplicity 
which  women  recognize  as  unconscious,  the  result 
of  an  inherited  habit  of  not  thinking  about  one's 
position.  In  excess  it  may  be  very  disagreeable, 
but  when  it  is  combined  with  genuine  good-nature 
and  no  self-assertion,  it  is  attractive.  And  al 
though  American  women  like  a  man  who  is  ag 
gressive  towards  the  world  and  combative,  there 
is  the  delight  of  novelty  in  one  who  has  leisure  to 
be  agreeable,  leisure  for  them,  and  who  seems  to 
their  imagination  to  have  a  larger  range  in  life 
than  those  who  are  driven  by  business — one  able 
to  offer  the  peace  and  security  of  something  at 
tained. 

There  had  been  several  little  neighborhood  en 
tertainments,  dinners  at  the  Morgans'  and  at  Mrs. 
Fletcher's,  and  an  evening  cup  of  tea  at  Miss  For- 
sythe's.  In  fact  Margaret  and  Mr.  Lyon  had  been 
thrown  much  together.  'lie  had  accompanied  her 
to  vespers,  and  they  had  taken  a  wintry  walk  or 
two  together  before  the  snow  came.  My  wife  had 
not  managed  it — she  assured  me  of  that ;  but  she 
had  not  felt  authorized  to  interfere;  and  she  had 
3 


34:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

visited  the  public  library  and  looked  into  the  Brit 
ish  Peerage.  Men  were  so  suspicious.  Margaret 
was  quite  able  to  take  care  of  herself.  I  admitted 
that,  but  I  suggested  that  the  Englishman  was  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land,  that  he  was  far  from 
home,  and  had  perhaps  a  weakened  sense  of  those 
powerful  social  influences  which  must,  after  all, 
control  him  in  the  end.  The  only  response  to  this 
was,  "I  think,  dear,  you'd  better  wrap  him  up  in 
cotton  and  send  him  back  to  his  family." 

Among  her  other  activities  Margaret  was  inter 
ested  in  a  mission  school  in  the  city,  to  which  she 
devoted  an  occasional  evening  and  Sunday  after 
noons.  This  Avas  a  new  surprise  for  Mr.  Lyon. 
Was  this  also  a  part  of  the  restlessness  of  Ameri 
can  life  ?  At  Mrs.  Howe's  german  the  other  even 
ing  the  girl  had  seemed  wholly  absorbed  in  dress, 
and  the  gayety  of  the  serious  formality  of  the  oc 
casion,  feeling  the  responsibility  of  it  scarcely  less 
than  the  "leader."  Yet  her  mind  was  evidently 
much  occupied  with  the  "condition  of  women," 
and  she  taught  in  a  public  school.  He  could  not 
at  all  make  it  out.  Was  she  any  more  serious 
about  the  german  than  about  the  mission  school  ? 
It  seemed  odd  at  her  age  to  take  life  so  seriously. 
And  wras  she  serious  in  all  her  various  occupa 
tions,  or  only  experimenting  ?  There  was  a  certain 
mocking  humor  in  the  girl  that  puzzled  the  Eng 
lishman  still  more. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  35 

"  I  have  not  seen  much  of  your  life,"  he  said  one 
night  to  Mr.  Morgan ;  "  but  aren't  most  American 
women  a  little  restless,  seeking  an  occupation  ?" 

"  Perhaps  they  have  that  appearance  ;  but  about 
the  same  number  find  it,  as  formerly,  in  mar 
riage." 

"  But  I  mean,  you  know,  do  they  look  to  mar 
riage  as  an  end  so  much  ?" 

u  I  don't  know  that  they  ever  did  look  to  mar 
riage  as  anything  but  a  means." 

"  I  can  tell  you,  Mr.  Lyon,"  my  Avife  interrupt 
ed,  "  you  will  get  no  information  out  of  Mr.  Mor 
gan  ;  he  is  a  scoffer." 

"  Not  at  all,  I  do  assure  you,"  Morgan  replied. 
"  I  am  just  a  humble  observer.  I  see  that  there  is 
a  change  going  on,  but  I  cannot  comprehend  it. 
When  I  was  young,  girls  used  to  go  in  for  society ; 
they  danced  their  feet  off  from  seventeen  to  twen 
ty-one.  I  never  heard  anything  about  any  occu 
pation  ;  they  had  their  swing  and  their  fling,  and 
their  flirtations ;  they  appeared  to  be  skimming 
off  of  those  impressionable,  joyous  years  the  cream 
of  life." 

"  And  you  think  that  fitted  them  for  the  serious 
ness  of  life  ?"  asked  his  wife. 

"  Well,  I  am  under  the  impression  that  very  good 
Avomen  came  out  of  that  society.  I  got  one  out  of 
that  dancing  crowd  Avho  has  been  serious  enough 
for  me." 


36  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"And  little  enough  you  have  profited  by  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Morgan. 

"  I'm  content.  But  probably  I'm  old-fashioned. 
There  is  quite  another  spirit  now.  Girls  out  of 
pinafores  must  begin  seriously  to  consider  some 
calling.  All  their  flirtation  from  seventeen  to 
twenty-one  is  with  some  occupation.  All  their 
dancing  days  they  must  go  to  college,  or  in  some 
way  lay  the  foundation  for  a  useful  life.  I  suppose 
it's  all  right.  No  doubt  we  shall  have  a  much 
higher  style  of  women  in  the  future  than  we  ever 
had  in  the  past." 

"  You  allow  nothing,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher,  "  for 
the  necessity  of  earning  a  living  in  these  days  of 
competition.  Women  never  will  come  to  their 
proper  position  in  the  world,  even  as  compan 
ions  of  men,  which  you  regard  as  their  highest 
office,  until  they  have  the  ability  to  be  self-sup 
porting." 

"  Oh,  I  admitted  the  fact  of  the  independence  of 
women  a  long  time  ago.  Every  one  does  that  be 
fore  he  comes  to  middle  life.  About  the  shifting 
all  round  of  this  burden  of  earning  a  living,  I  am 
not  so  sure.  It  does  not  appear  yet  to  make  com 
petition  any  less ;  perhaps  competition  would  dis 
appear  if  everybody  did  earn  his  own  living  and 
no  more.  I  wonder,  by-the-way,  if  the  girls,  the 
young  women,  of  the  class  we  seem  to  be  discuss 
ing  ever  do  earn  as  much  as  would  pay  the  wages 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  37 

of  the  servants  who  are  hired  to  do  the  house 
work  in  their  places  ?" 

"  That  is  a  most  ignoble  suggestion,"  I  could  not 
help  saying,  "when  you  know  that  the  object  in 
modern  life  is  the  cultivation  of  the  mind,  the  ele 
vation  of  women,  and  men  also,  in  intellectual  life." 

"  I  suppose  so.  I  should  like  to  have  asked  Abi 
gail  Adams's  opinion  on  the  way  to  do  it." 

"  One  would  think,"  I  said,  "  that  you  didn't 
know  that  the  spinning -jenny  and  the  stocking- 
knitter  had  been  invented.  Given  these,  the  wom 
en's  college  was  a  matter  of  course." 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  believer  in  all  kinds  of  machinery— 
anything  to  save  labor.  Only,  I  have  faith  that 
neither  the  jenny  nor  the  college  will  change  hu 
man  nature,  nor  take  the  romance  out  of  life." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  my  wife.  "  I've  heard  two 
things  affirmed:  that  women  who  receive  a  scien 
tific  or  professional  education  lose  their  faith,  be 
come  usually  agnostics,  having  lost  sensitiveness  to 
the  mysteries  of  life." 

"  And  you  think,  therefore,  that  they  should  not 
have  a  scientific  education  f 

"  No,  unless  all  scientific  prying  into  things  is  a 
mistake.  Women  may  be  more  likely  at  first  to 
be  upset  than  men,  but  they  will  recover  their  bal 
ance  when  the  novelty  is  worn  off.  No  amount  of 
science  will  entirely  change  their  emotional  nat 
ure  ;  and  besides,  with  all  our  science,  I  don't  see 


38  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

that  the  supernatural  has  any  less  hold  on  this 
generation  than  on  the  former." 

"  Yes,  and  you  might  say  the  world  was  never 
before  so  credulous  as  it  is  now.  But  what  was 
the  other  thing  ?" 

"Why,  that  co-education  is  likely  to  diminish 
marriages  among  the  co-educated.  Daily  familiar 
ity  in  the  class-room  at  the  most  impressionable 
age,  revelation  of  all  the  intellectual  weaknesses 
and  petulances,  absorption  of  mental  routine  on  an 
equality,  tend  to  destroy  the  sense  of  romance  and 
mystery  that  are  the  most  powerful  attractions  be 
tween  the  sexes.  It  is  a  sort  of  disenchanting  fa- 

o 

miliarity  that  rubs  off  the  bloom." 

"  Have  you  any  statistics  on  the  subject  ?" 
"  ~No.     I  fancy  it  is  only  a  notion  of  some  old 
fogy  who  thinks  education  in  any  form  is  danger 
ous  for  women." 

"  Yes,  and  I  fancy  that  co-education  will  have 
about  as  much  effect  on  life  generally  as  that  sol 
emn  meeting  of  a  society  of  intelligent  and  fash 
ionable  women  recently  in  one  of  our  great  cities, 
who  met  to  discuss  the  advisability  of  limiting 
population." 

"  Great  Scott !"  I  exclaimed,  "  this  is  an  interest 
ing  age." 

I  was  less  anxious  about  the  vagaries  of  it  when 
I  saw  the  very  old-fashioned  way  in  which  the  in 
ternational  drama  was  going  on  in  our  neighbor- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  39 

hood.  Mr.  Lyon  was  increasingly  interested  in 
Margaret's  mission  work.  Nor  was  there  much 
affectation  in  this.  Philanthropy,  anxiety  about 
the  working-classes,  is  nowhere  more  serious  or  in 
the  fashion  than  it  is  in  London.  Mr.  Lyon,  wher 
ever  he  had  been,  had  made  a  special  study  of  the 
various  aid  and  relief  societies,  especially  of  the 
work  for  young  waifs  and  strays. 

One  Sunday  afternoon  they  were  returning  from 
the  Bloom  Street  Mission.  Snow  covered  the 
ground,  the  sky  was  leaden,  and  the  air  had  a  pen 
etrating  chill  in  it  far  more  disagreeable  than  ex 
treme  cold. 

"  We  also,"  Mr.  Lyon  was  saying,  in  continuation 
of  a  conversation,  "  are  making  a  great  effort  for 
the  common  people." 

"  But  we  haven't  any  common  people  here,"  re 
plied  Margaret,  quickly.  "  That  bright  boy  you 
noticed  in  my  class,  who  was  a  terror  six  months 
ago,  will  no  doubt  be  in  the  City  Council  in  a  few 
years,  and  likely  enough  mayor." 

"  Oh,  I  know  your  theory.  It  practically  comes 
to  the  same  thing,  whatever  you  call  it.  I  couldn't 
see  that  the  work  in  New  York  differed  much  from 
that  in  London.  We  who  have  leisure  ought  to  do 
something  for  the  working-classes." 

"  I  sometimes  doubt  if  it  is  not  all  a  mistake- 
most  of  our  charitable  work.  The  thing  is  to  get 
people  to  do  something  for  themselves." 


40       •      A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  But  you  cannot  do  away  with  distinctions  ?" 

"  I  suppose  not,  so  long  as  so  many  people  are 
born  vicious,  or  incompetent,  or  lazy.  But,  Mr. 
Lyon,  how  much  good  do  you  suppose  condescend 
ing  charity  does  ?"  asked  Margaret,  firing  up  in  a 
way  the  girl  had  at  times.  "  I  mean  the  sort  that 
makes  the  distinctions  more  evident.  The  very 
fact  that  you  have  leisure  to  meddle  in  their  affairs 
may  be  an  annoyance  to  the  folks  you  try  to  help 
by  the  little  palliatives  of  charity.  What  effect 
upon  a  wretched  city  neighborhood  do  you  suppose 
is  produced  by  the  advent  in  it  of  a  stylish  carriage 
and  a  lady  in  silk,  or  even  the  coming  of  a  well- 
dressed,  prosperous  woman  in  a  horse-car,  however 
gentle  and  unassuming  she  may  be  in  this  distribu 
tion  of  sympathy  and  bounty  ?  Isn't  the  feeling 
of  inequality  intensified  ?  And  the  degrading  part 
of  it  may  be  that  so  many  are  willing  to  accept 
this  sort  of  bounty.  And  your  men  of  leisure, 
your  club  men,  sitting  in  the  windows  and  seeing 
the  world  go  by  as  a  spectacle — men  who  never 
did  an  hour's  necessary  work  in  their  lives — what 
effect  do  you  suppose  the  sight  of  them  has  upon 
men  out  of  work,  perhaps  by  their  own  fault,  owing 
to  the  same  disposition  to  be  idle  that  the  men  in 
the  club  windows  have  ?" 

"And  do  you  think  it  would  be  any  better  if  all 
were  poor  alike  ?" 

"  I  think  it  would  be  better  if  there  were  no  idle 


A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  41 

people.  I'm  half  ashamed  that  I  have  leisure  to 
go  every  time  I  go  to  that  mission.  And  I'm  al 
most  sorry,  Mr.  Lyon,  that  I  took  you  there.  The 
boys  knew  you  were  English.  One  of  them  asked 
me  if  you  were  a  4  lord '  or  a  '  juke '  or  something. 
I  cannot  tell  how  they  will  take  it.  They  may  re 
sent  the  spying  into  their  world  of  an  '  English 
juke,'  and  they  may  take  it  in  the  light  of  a  show." 

Mr.  Lyon  laughed.  And  then,  perhaps  after  a 
little  reflection  upon  the  possibility  that  the  nobil 
ity  was  becoming  a  show  in  this  world,  he  said : 

"I  begin  to  think  I'm  very  unfortunate,  Miss 
Debree.  You  seem  to  remind  me  that  I  am  in  a 
position  in  which  I  can  do  very  little  to  help  the 
world  along." 

"  Not  at  all.     You  can  do  very  much." 

"But  how,  when  whatever  I  attempt  is  consid 
ered  a  condescension  ?  What  can  I  do  ?" 

"Pardon  me,"  and  Margaret  turned  her  eyes 
frankly  upon  him.  "  You  can  be  a  good  earl  when 
your  time  comes." 

Their  way  lay  through  the  little  city  park.  It 
is  a  pretty  place  in  summer — a  varied  surface,  well 
planted  with  forest  and  ornamental  trees,  intersect 
ed  by  a  winding  stream.  The  little  river  was  full 
now,  and  ice  had  formed  on  it,  with  small  openings 
here  and  there,  where  the  dark  water,  hurrying 
along  as  if  in  fear  of  arrest,  had  a  more  chilling  as 
pect  than  the  icy  cover.  The  ground  was  white 


4:2  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

with  snow,  and  all  the  trees  were  bare  except  for 
a  few  frozen  oak-leaves  here  and  there,  which  shiv 
ered  in  the  wind  and  somehow  added  to  the  deso 
lation.  Leaden  clouds  covered  the  sky,  and  only 
in  the  west  was  there  a  gleam  of  the  departing 
winter  day,J 

Upon  the  elevated  bank  of  the  stream,  opposite 
to  the  road  by  which  they  approached,  they  saw  a 
group  of  people — perhaps  twenty — drawn  closely 
together,  either  in  the  sympathy  of  segregation 
from  an  unfeeling  world,  or  for  protection  from  the 
keen  wind.  On  the  hither  bank,  and  leaning  on 
the  rails  of  the  drive,  had  collected  a  motley  crowd 
of  spectators,  men,  women,  and  boys,  who  exhibit 
ed  some  impatience  and  much  curiosity,  decorous 
for  the  most  part,  but  emphasized  by  occasional 
jocose  remarks  in  an  undertone.  A  serious  cere 
mony  was  evidently  in  progress.  The  separate 
group  had  not  a  prosperous  air.  The  women  were 
thinly  clad  for  such  a  day.  Conspicuous  in  the 
little  assembly  was  a  tall,  elderly  man  in  a  shabby 
long  coat  and  a  broad  felt  hat,  from  under  which 
his  white  hair  fell  upon  his  shoulders.  He  might 
be  a  prophet  in  Israel  come  out  to  testify  to  an  un 
believing  world,  and  the  little  group  around  him, 
shaken  like  reeds  in  the  wind,  had  the  appearance 
of  martyrs  to  a  cause.  The  light  of  another  world 
shone  in  their  thin,  patient  faces.  Come,  they 
seemed  to  say  to  the  worldlings  on  the  opposite 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  43 

bank — come  and  see  what  happiness  it  is  to  serve 
the  Lord.  As  they  waited,  a  faint  tune  was  start 
ed,  a  quavering  hymn,  whose  feeble  notes  the  wind 
blew  away  at  first,  but  which  grew  stronger. 

Before  the  first  stanza  Avas  finished  a  carriage 
appeared  in  the  rear  of  the  group.  From  it  de 
scended  a  middle-aged  man  and  a  stout  woman, 
and  they  together  helped  a  young  girl  to  alight. 
She  was  clad  all  in  white.  For  a  moment  her 
thin,  delicate  figure  shrank  from  the  cutting  wind. 
Timid,  nervous,  she  glanced  an  instant  at  the  crowd 
and  the  dark  icy  stream ;  but  it  was  only  a  protest 
of  the  poor  body ;  the  face  had  the  rapt,  exultant 
look  of  joyous  sacrifice. 

The  tall  man  advanced  to  meet  her,  and  led  her 
into  the  midst  of  the  group. 

For  a  few  moments  there  was  prayer,  inaudible 
at  a  distance.  Then  the  tall  man,  taking  the  girl 
by  the  hand,  advanced  down  the  slope  to  the 
stream.  His  hat  was  laid  aside,  his  venerable 
locks  streamed  in  the  breeze,  his  eyes  were  turned 
to  heaven ;  the  girl  walked  as  in  a  vision,  without 
a  tremor,  her  wide-opened  eyes  fixed  upon  invisible 
things. 

As  they  moved  on,  the  group  behind  set  up  a 
joyful  hymn  in  a  kind  of  mournful  chant,  in  which 
the  tall  man  joined  with  a  strident  voice.  Fitfully 
the  words  came  on  the  wind,  in  an  almost  heart 
breaking  wail : 


44  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping 

I  shall  be  soon; 

Beyond  the  waking  and  the  sleeping, 
Beyond  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 

I  shall  be  soon." 

They  were  near  the  water  now,  and  the  tall  man's 
voice  sounded  out  loud  and  clear : 

"Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come!" 

They  were  entering  the  stream  where  there  was 
an  opening  clear  of  ice ;  the  footing  was  not  very 
secure,  and  the  tall  man  ceased  singing,  but  the 
little  band  sang  on : 

"Beyond  the  blooming  and  the  fading 
I  shall  be  soon." 

The  girl  grew  paler  and  shuddered.  The  tall  man 
sustained  her  with  an  attitude  of  infinite  sympathy, 
and  seemed  to  speak  words  of  encouragement. 
They  were  in  the  mid-stream  ;  the  cold  flood  surged 
about  their  waists.  The  group  sang  on  : 

"Beyond  the  shining  and  the  shading, 
Beyond  the  hoping  and  the  dreading, 
I  shall  be  soon." 

The  strong,  tender  arms  of  the  tall  man  gently 
lowered  the  white  form  under  the  cruel  water ;  he 
staggered  a  moment  in  the  swift  stream,  recovered 
himself,  raised  her,  white  as  death,  and  the  voices 
of  the  wailing  tune  came — 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  45 

"Love,  rest,  and  home — 
Sweet  hope!    Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come!" 

And  the  tall  man,  as  he  struggled  to  the  shore  with 
his  almost  insensible  burden,  could  be  heard  above 
the  other  voices  and  the  wind  and  the  rush  of  the 

waters— 

"Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come!" 

The  girl  was  hurried  into  the  carriage,  and  the 
group  quickly  dispersed.  "  Well,  I'll  be —  The 
tender-hearted  little  wife  of  the  rough  man  in  the 
crowd  who  began  that  sentence  did  not  permit  him 
to  finish  it.  "  That'll  be  a  case  for  a  doctor  right 
away,"  remarked  a  well-known  practitioner  who 
had  been  looking  on. 

Margaret  and  Mr.  Lyon  walked  home  in  silence. 
"  I  can't  talk  about  it,"  she  said.  "  It's  such  a  pit 
iful  world." 


IV. 

IN  the  evening,  at  our  house,  Margaret  described 
the  scene  in  the  park. 

"  It's  dreadful,"  was  the  comment  of  Miss  For- 
sjthe.  "  The  authorities  ought  not  to  permit  such 
a  thing." 

"  It  seemed  to  me  as  heroic  as  pitiful,  aunt.  I 
fear  I  should  be  incapable  of  making  such  a  testi 
mony." 

"  But  it  was  so  unnecessary." 

"  How  do  we  know  what  is  necessary  to  any 
poor  soul?  What  impressed  me  most  strongly 
was  that  there  is  in  the  world  still  this  longing 
to  suffer  physically  and  endure  public  scorn  for  a 
belief." 

"It  may  have  been  a  disappointment  to  the  lit 
tle  band,"  said  Mr.  Morgan,  "  that  there  was  no 
demonstration  from  the  spectators,  that  there  was 
no  loud  jeering,  that  no  snowballs  were  thrown  by 
the  boys." 

"They  could  hardly  expest  that,"  said  I;  "the 
world  has  become  so  tolerant  that  it  doesn't  care." 

"I  rather  think,"  Margaret  replied,  "that  the 
spectators  for  a  moment  came  under  the  spell  of 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  47 

the  hour,  and  were  awed  by  something  supernat 
ural  in  the  endurance  of  that  frail  girl." 

"No  doubt,"  said  my  wife,  after  a  little  pause. 
"  I  believe  that  there  is  as  much  sense  of  mystery 
in  the  world  as  ever,  and  as  much  of  what  we  call 
faith,  only  it  shows  itself  eccentrically.  Breaking 
away  from  traditions  and  not  going  to  church  have 
not  destroyed  the  need  in  the  minds  of  the  mass 
of  people  for  something  outside  themselves." 

"Did  I  tell  you,"  interposed  Morgan — "it  is  al 
most  in  the  line  of  your  thought — of  a  girl  I  met 
the  other  day  on  the  train  ?  I  happened  to  be  her 
seat-mate  in  the  car — thin  face,  slight  little  figure 
— a  commonplace  girl,  whom  I  took  at  first  to  be 
not  more  than  twenty,  but  from  the  lines  about 
her  large  eyes  she  was  probably  nearer  forty.  She 
had  in  her  lap  a  book,  which  she  conned  from  time 
to  time,  and  seemed  to  be  committing  verses  to 
memory  as  she  looked  out  the  window.  At  last  I 
ventured  to  ask  what  literature  it  was  that  inter 
ested  her  so  much,  when  she  turned  and  frankly 
entered  into  conversation.  It  was  a  little  Advent 
song-book.  She  liked  to  read  it  on  the  train,  and 
hum  over  the  tunes.  Yes,  she  was  a  good  deal  on 
the  cars ;  early  every  morning  she  rode  thirty  miles 
to  her  work,  and  thirty  miles  back  every  evening. 
Her  work  was  that  of  clerk  and  copyist  in  a 
freight  office,  and  she  earned  nine  dollars  a  week, 
on  which  she  supported  herself  and  her  mother. 


48  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

It  was  hard  work,  but  she  did  not  mind  it  much. 
Her  mother  was  quite  feeble.  She  was  an  Ad- 
ventist.  '  And  you  ?'  I  asked.  '  Oh  yes,  I  am.  I've 
been  an  Adventist  twenty  years,  and  I've  been 
perfectly  happy  ever  since  I  joined — perfectly,'  she 
added,  turning  her  plain  face,  now  radiant,  towards 
me.  '  Are  you  one  ?'  she  asked,  presently.  '  Not 
an  immediate  Adventist,'  I  was  obliged  to  confess. 
' 1  thought  you  might  be,  there  are  so  many  now, 
more  and  more.'  I  learned  that  in  our  little  city 
There  were  two  Advent  societies ;  there  had  been 
a  split  on  account  of  some  difference  in  the  mean- 
,  ing  of  original  sin.  '  And  you  are  not  discouraged 
'by  the  repeated  failure  of  the  predictions  of  the 
end  of  the  world?'  I  asked.  'No.  Why  should 
we  be  ?  We  don't  fix  any  certain  day  now,  but  all 
the  signs  show  that  it  is  very  near.  We  are  all 
free  to  think  as  we  like.  Most  of  our  members 
now  think  it  will  be  next  year.'  '  I  hope  not !'  I 
exclaimed.  '  Why  ?'  she  asked,  turning  to  me  with 
a  look  of  surprise.  'Are  you  afraidf  I  evaded 
by  saying  that  I  supposed  the  good  had  nothing  to 
fear.  '  Then  you  must  be  an  Adventist,  you  have 
so  much  sympathy.'  '  I  shouldn't  like  to  have  tho 
world  come  to  an  end  next  year,  because  there  are 
so  many  interesting  problems,  and  I  want  to  see 
how  they  will  be  worked  out.'  'How  can  you 
want  to  put  it  off ' — and  there  was  for  the  first 
time  a  little  note  of  fanaticism  in  her  voice — '  when 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  49 

there  is  so  much  poverty  and  hard  work?  It  is 
such  a  hard  world,  and  so  much  suffering  and  sin. 
And  it  could  all  be  ended  in  a  moment.  How  can 
you  want  it  to  go  on  ?'  The  train  approached  the 
station,  and  she  rose  to  say  good-bye.  '  You  will 
see  the  truth  some  day,'  she  said,  and  went  away 
as  cheerful  as  if  the  world  was  actually  destroyed. 
She  was  the  happiest  woman  I  have  seen  in  a  long 
time." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "it  is  an  age  of  both  faith  and 
credulity." 

"And  nothing  marks  it  more,"  Morgan  added, 
"  than  the  popular  expectation  among  the  scientific 
and  the  ignorant  of  something  to  come  out  of  the 
dimly  understood  relation  of  body  and  mind.  It 
is  like  the  expectation  of  the  possibilities  of  elec 
tricity." 

"I  was  going  on  to  say,"  I  continued,  "that 
wherever  I  walk  in  the  city  of  a  Sunday  afternoon, 
I  am  struck  with  the  number  of  little  meetings 
going  on,  of  the  faithful  and  the  unfaithful,  Ad- 
ventists,  socialists,  spiritualists,  culturists,  Sons  and 
Daughters  of  Edom;  from  all  the  open  windows 
of  the  tall  buildings  come  notes  of  praying,  of  ex 
hortation,  the  melancholy  wail  of  the  inspiring 
Sankey  tunes,  total  abstinence  melodies,  over-the- 
river  melodies,  songs  of  entreaty,  and  songs  of 
praise.  There  is  so  much  going  on  outside  of  the 
regular  churches !" 


50  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  But  the  churches  are  well  attended,"  suggested 
my  wife. 

"  Yes,  fairly,  at  least  once  a  day,  and  if  there  is 
sensational  preaching,  twice.  But  there  is  nothing 
that  will  so  pack  the  biggest  hall  in  the  city  as  the 
announcement  of  inspirational  preaching  by  some 
young  woman  who  speaks  at  random  on  a  text 
given  her  when  she  steps  upon  the  platform. 
There  is  something  in  her  rhapsody,  even  when  it 
is  incoherent,  that  appeals  to  a  prevailing  spirit." 

"  How  much  of  it  is  curiosity  ?"  Morgan  asked. 
"  Isn't  the  hall  just  as  jammed  when  the  clever  at 
torney  of  Nothingism,  Ham  Saversoul,  jokes  about 
the  mysteries  of  this  life  and  the  next  2" 

"  Very  likely.  People  like  the  emotional  and 
the  amusing.  All  the  same,  they  are  credulous, 
and  entertain  doubt  and  belief  on  the  slightest  evi 
dence." 

"  Isn't  it  natural,"  spoke  up  Mr.  Lyon,  who  had 
hitherto  been  silent,  "that  you  should  drift  into 
this  condition  without  an  established  church  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it's  natural,"  Morgan  retorted,  "  that 
people  dissatisfied  with  an  established  religion 
should  drift  over  here.  Great  Britain,  you  know, 
is  a  famous  recruiting-ground  for  our  socialistic  ex 
periments." 

"Ah,  well,"  said  my  wife,  "  men  will  have  some 
thing.  If  what  is  established  repels  to  the  extent 
of  getting  itself  disestablished,  and  all  churches 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  51 

should  be  broken  up,  society  would  somehow  pre 
cipitate  itself  again  spiritually.  I  heard  the  other 
day  that  Boston,  getting  a  little  weary  of  the 
Vedas,  was  beginning  to  take  up  the  New  Testa 
ment." 

"  Yes,"  said  Morgan, "  since  Tolstoi  mentioned  it." 

After  a  little  the  talk  drifted  into  psychic  re 
search,  and  got  lost  in  stories  of  "appearances" 
and  "  long-distance  "  communications.  It  appeared 
to  me  that  intelligent  people  accepted  this  sort  of 
story  as  true  on  evidence  on  which  they  wouldn't 
risk  five  dollars  if  it  were  a  question  of  money. 
Even  scientists  swallow  tales  of  prehistoric  bones 
on  testimony  they  would  reject  if  it  involved  the 
title  to  a  piece  of  real  estate. 

Mr.  Lyon  still  lingered  in  the  lap  of  a  New  Eng 
land  winter  as  if  it  had  been  Capua.  He  was  anx 
ious  to  visit  "Washington  and  study  the  politics  of 
the  country,  and  see  the  sort  of  society  produced 
in  the  freedom  of  a  republic,  where  there  was  no 
court  to  give  the  tone  and  there  were  no  class  lines 
to  determine  position.  He  was  restless  under  this 
sense  of  duty.  The  future  legislator  for  the  Brit 
ish  Empire  must  understand  the  Constitution  of  its 
great  rival,  and  thus  be  able  to  appreciate  the  so 
cial  currents  that  have  so  much  to  do  with  politi 
cal  action. 

In  fact  he  had  another  reason  for  uneasiness. 
His  mother  had  written  him,  asking  why  he  stayed 


52  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

so  long  in  an  unimportant  city,  he  who  had  been 
so  active  a  traveller  hitherto.  Knowledge  of  the 
capitals  was  what  he  needed.  Agreeable  people  he 
could  find  at  home,  if  his  only  object  was  to  pass 
the  time.  What  could  he  reply?  Could  he  say 
that  he  had  become  very  much  interested  in  study 
ing  a  school  -  teacher  —  a  very  charming  school 
teacher?  He  could  see  the  vision  raised  in  the 
minds  of  his  mother  and  of  the  earl  and  of  his 
elder  sister  as  they  should  read  this  precious  con 
fession — a  vision  of  a  school-ma'am,  of  an  Ameri 
can  girl,  and  an  American  girl  without  any  money 
at  that,  moving  in  the  little  orbit  of  Chisholm 
House.  The  thing  was  absurd.  And  yet  why 
was  it  absurd  ?  What  was  English  politics,  what 
was  Chisholm  House,  what  was  everybody  in  Eng 
land  compared  to  this  noble  girl?  Nay,  what 
would  the  world  be  without  her?  He  grew  hot 
in  thinking  of  it,  indignant  at  his  relations  and  the 
whole  artificial  framework  of  things. 

The  situation  was  almost  humiliating.  He  be 
gan  to  doubt  the  stability  of  his  own  position. 
Hitherto  he  had  met  no  obstacle :  whatever  he  had 
desired  he  had  obtained.  He  was  a  sensible  fel 
low,  and  knew  the  world  was  not  made  for  him ; 
but  it  certainly  had  yielded  to  him  in  everything. 
Why  did  he  doubt  now?  That  he  did  doubt 
showed  him  the  intensity  of  his  interest  in  Mar 
garet.  For  love  is  humble,  and  undervalues  self  in 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  53 

contrast  with  that  which  it  desires.  At  this  touch 
stone  rank,  fortune,  all  that  go  with  them,  seemed 
poor.  What  were  all  these  to  a  woman's  soul? 
But  there  were  women  enough,  women  enough  in 
England,  women  more  beautiful  than  Margaret, 
doubtless  as  amiable  and  intellectual.  Yet  now 
there  was  for  him  only  one  woman  in  the  world. 
And  Margaret  showed  no  sign.  Was  he  about  to 
make  a' fool  of  himself?  If  she  should  reject  him 
he  would  seem  a  fool  to  himself.  If  she  accepted 
him  he  would  seem  a  fool  to  the  whole  circle  that 
made  his  world  at  home.  The  situation  was  intol 
erable.  He  would  end  it  by  going. 

But  he  did  not  go.  If  he  went  to-day  he  could 
not  see  her  to-morrow.  To  a  lover  anything  can 
be  borne  if  he  knows  that  he  shall  see  her  to-mor 
row.  In  short,  he  could  not  go  so  long  as  there 
was  any  doubt  about  her  disposition  towards  him. 

And  a  man  is  still  reduced  to  this  in  the  latter 
part  of  the  nineteenth  century,  notwithstanding  all 
our  science,  all  our  analysis  of  the  passion,  all  our 
wise  jabber  about  the  failure  of  marriage,  all  our 
common -sense  about  the  relation  of  the  sexes. 
Love  is  still  a  personal  question,  not  to  be  reasoned 
about  or  in  any  way  disposed  of  except  in  the  old 
way.  Maidens  dream  about  it ;  diplomats  yield  to 
it ;  stolid  men  are  upset  by  it ;  the  aged  become 
young,  the  young  grave,  under  its  influence ;  the 
student  loses  his  appetite — God  bless  him !  I  like 


54:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

to  hear  the  young  fellows  at  the  club  rattle  on 
bravely,  indifferent  to  the  whole  thing — sceptical, 
in  fact,  about  it.  And  then  to  see  them,  one  after 
another,  stricken  down,  and  looking  a  little  sheep 
ish  and  not  saying  much,  and  by-and-by  radiant. 
You  would  think  they  owned  the  world.  Heaven, 
I  think,  shows  us  no  finer  sarcasm  than  one  of 
these  young  sceptics  as  a  meek  family  man. 

Margaret  and  Mr.  Lyon  were  much  together. 
And  their  talk,  as  always  happens  when  two  per 
sons  find  themselves  much  together,  became  more 
and  more  personal.  It  is  only  in  books  that  dia 
logues  are  abstract  and  impersonal.  The  English 
man  told  her  about  his  family,  about  the  set  in 
which  he  moved — and  he  had  the  English  frank 
ness  in  setting  it  out  unreservedly — about  the  life 
he  led  at  Oxford,  about  his  travels,  and  so  on  to 
what  he  meant  to  do  in  the  world.  Margaret  in 
return  had  little  to  tell,  her  own  life  had  been  so 
simple — not  much  except  the  maidenly  reserves, 
the  discontents  with  herself,  which  interested  him 
more  than  anything  else ;  and  of  the  future  she 
would  not  speak  at  all.  How  can  a  woman,  with 
out  being  misunderstood  ?  All  this  talk  had  a  cer 
tain  danger  in  it,  for  sympathy  is  unavoidable  be 
tween  two  persons  who  look  ever  so  little  into  each 
other's  hearts  and  compare  tastes  and  desires. 

"  I  cannot  quite  understand  your  social  life  over 
here,"  Mr.  Lyon  was  saying  one  day.  "  You  seem 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  55 

to  make  distinctions,  but  I  cannot  see  exactly  for 
what." 

"Perhaps  they  make  themselves.  Your  social 
orders  seem  able  to  resist  Darwin's  theory,  but  in 
a  republic  natural  selection  has  a  better  chance." 

"  I  was  told  by  a  Bohemian  on  the  steamer  com 
ing  over  that  money  in  America  takes  the  place  of 
rank  in  England." 

"  That  isn't  quite  true." 

"  And  I  was  told  in  Boston  by  an  acquaintance 
of  very  old  family  and  little  fortune  that  <  blood ' 
is  considered  here  as  much  as  anywhere." 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Lyon,  how  difficult  it  is  to  get 
correct  information  about  us.  I  think  we  wor 
ship  wealth  a  good  deal,  and  we  worship  family  a 
good  deal,  but  if  any  one  presumes  too  much  upon 
either,  he  is  likely  to  come  to  grief.  I  don't  under 
stand  it  very  well  myself." 

"  Then  it  is  not  money  that  determines  social  po 
sition  in  America  2" 

"  K"ot  altogether ;  but  more  now  than  formerly. 
I  suppose  the  distinction  is  this :  family  will  take 
a  person  everywhere,  money  will  take  him  almost 
everywhere ;  but  money  is  always  at  this  disadvan 
tage — it  takes  more  and  more  of  it  to  gain  posi 
tion.  And  then  you  will  find  that  it  is  a  good  deal 
a  matter  of  locality.  For  instance,  in  Virginia  and 
Kentucky  family  is  still  very  powerful,  stronger 
than  any  distinction  in  letters  or  politics  or  success 


56  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

in  business ;  and  there  is  a  certain  diminishing 
number  of  people  in  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Bos 
ton,  who  cultivate  a  good  deal  of  exclusiveness  on 
account  of  descent." 

"  But  I  am  told  that  this  sort  of  aristocracy  is 
succumbing  to  the  new  plutocracy." 

"  Well,  it  is  more  and  more  difficult  to  maintain 
a  position  without  money.  Mr.  Morgan  says  that 
it  is  a  disheartening  thing  to  be  an  aristocrat  with 
out  luxury ;  he  declares  that  he  cannot  tell  wheth 
er  the  Knickerbockers  of  New  York  or  the  pluto 
crats  are  more  uneasy  just  now.  The  one  is  hungry 
for  social  position,  and  is  morose  if  he  cannot  buy 
it ;  and  when  the  other  is  seduced  by  luxury  and 
yields,  he  finds  that  his  distinction  is  gone.  For  in 
his  heart  the  newly  rich  only  respects  the  rich.  A 
story  went  about  of  one  of  the  Bonanza  princes 
who  had  built  his  palace  in  the  city,  and  was 
sending  out  invitations  to  his  first  entertainment. 
Somebody  suggested  doubts  to  him  about  the  re 
sponse.  '  Oh,'  he  said,  '  the  beggars  will  be  glad 
enough  to  come !'  I  suppose,  Mr.  Lyon,"  said  Mar 
garet,  demurely,  "that  this  sort  of  thing  is  un 
known  in  England  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  couldn't  say  that  money  is  not  run  after 
there  to  some  extent." 

"  I  saw  a  picture  in  Punch  of  an  auction,  intend 
ed  as  an  awful  satire  on  American  women.  It 
struck  me  that  it  might  have  two  interpretations." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  57 

"  Yes,  Punch  is  as  friendly  to  America  as  it  is  to 
the  English  aristocracy." 

"  Well,  I  was  only  thinking  that  it  is  just  an  ex 
change  of  commodities.  People  will  always  give 
what  they  have  for  what  they  want.  The  Western 
man  changes  his  pork  in  New  York  for  pictures. 
I  suppose  that — what  do  you  call  it  ? — the  balance 
of  trade  is  against  us,  and  we  have  to  send  over 
cash  and  beauty." 

"  I  didn't  know  that  Miss  Debree  was  so  much  of 
a  political  economist." 

"We  got  that  out  of  books  in  school.  An 
other  thing  we  learned  is  that  England  wants  raw 
material ;  I  thought  I  might  as  well  say  it,  for  it 
wouldn't  be  polite  for  you." 

"Oh,  I'm  capable  of  saying  anything,  if  pro 
voked.  But  we  have  got  away  from  the  point. 
As  far  as  I  can  see,  all  sorts  of  people  intermarry, 
and  I  don't  see  how  you  can  discriminate  socially 
—where  the  lines  are." 

Mr.  Lyon  saw  the  moment  that  he  had  made  it 
that  this  was  a  suggestion  little  likely  to  help  him. 
And  Margaret's  reply  showed  that  he  had  lost 
ground. 

"  Oh,  we  do  not  try  to  discriminate — except  as 
to  foreigners.  There  is  a  popular  notion  that 
Americans  had  better  marry  at  home." 

"  Then  the  best  way  for  a  foreigner  to  break 
your  exclusiveness  is  to  be  naturalized."  Mr.  Lyon 


58  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

tried  to  adopt  her  tone,  and  added,  "Would  you 
like  to  see  me  an  American  citizen  ?" 

"  I  don't  believe  you  could  be,  except  for  a  little 
while ;  you  are  too  British." 

"  But  the  two  nations  are  practically  the  same ; 
that  is,  individuals  of  the  nations  are.  Don't  you 
think  so  ?" 

"  Yes,  if  one  of  them  gives  up  all  the  habits  and 
prejudices  of  a  lifetime  and  of  a  whole  social  con 
dition  to  the  other." 

"  And  which  would  have  to  yield  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  man,  of  course.  It  has  always  been  so. 
My  great-great-grandfather  was  a  Frenchman,  but 
he  became,  I  have  always  heard,  the  most  docile 
American  republican." 

"  Do  you  think  he  would  have  been  the  one  to 
give  in  if  they  had  gone  to  France  ?"^j 

"Perhaps  not.  And  then  the  marriage  would 
have  been  unhappy.  Did  you  never  take  notice 
that  a  woman's  happiness,  and  consequently  the 
happiness  of  marriage,  depends  upon  a  woman's 
having  her  own  way  in  all  social  matters?  Be 
fore  our  war  all  the  men  who  married  down  South 
took  the  Southern  view,  and  all  the  Southern 
women  who  married  up  North  held  their  own, 
and  sensibly  controlled  the  sympathies  of  their 
husbands." 

"And  how  was  it  with  the  Northern  women 
who  married  South,  as  you  say?" 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  59 

"  Well,  it  must  be  confessed  that  a  good  many  of 
them  adapted  themselves,  in  appearance  at  least. 
Women  can  do  that,  and  never  let  any  one  see 
they  are  not  happy  and  not  doing  it  from  choice." 

"And  don't  you  think  American  women  adapt 
themselves  happily  to  English  life  ?" 

"  Doubtless  some ;  I  doubt  if  many  do ;  but 
women  do  not  confess  mistakes  of  that  kind. 
Woman's  happiness  depends  so  much  upon  the 
continuation  of  the  surroundings  and  sympathies 
in  which  she  is  bred.  There  are  always  excep 
tions.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Lyon,  it  seems  to  me 
that  some  people  do  not  belong  in  the  country 
where  they  were  born.  We  have  men  who  ought 
to  have  been  born  in  England,  and  who  only  iind 
themselves  really  at  ease  and  suited  when  they  go 
there.  There  are  some  women  like  them,  who  are 
ambitious,  and  court  a  career  different  from  any 
that  a  republic  can  give  them.  They  are  not  satis 
fied  here.  Whether  they  are  happy  there  I  do  not 
know ;  so  few  trees,  when  at  all  grown,  will  bear 
transplanting." 

"  Then  you  think  international  marriages  are  a 
mistake  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  theorize  on  subjects  I  am  ignorant 
of." 

"  You  give  me  very  cold  comfort." 

"I  didn't  know,"  said  Margaret,  with  a  laugh 
that  was  too  genuine  to  be  consoling,  "  that  you 


60  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

were  travelling  for  comfort ;  I  thought  it  was  for 
information." 

^  And  I  am  getting  a  great  deal,"  said  Mr.  Lyon, 
rather  ruefully.  "  I'm  trying  to  find  out  where  I 
ought  to  have  been  born." 

"I'm  not  sure,"  Margaret  said,  half  seriously, 
"  but  you  would  have  been  a  very  good  American." 

This  was  not  much  of  an  admission,  after  all,  but 
it  was  the  most  that  Margaret  had  ever  made,  and 
Mr.  Lyon  tried  to  get  some  encouragement  out  of 
it.  But  he  felt,  as  any  man  would  feel,  that  this 
beating  about  the  bush,  this  talk  of  nationality  and 
all  that,  was  nonsense;  that  if  a  woman  loved  a 
man  she  wouldn't  care  where  he  was  born ;  that 
all  the  world  would  be  as  nothing  to  him  ;  that  all 
conditions  and  obstacles  society  and  family  could 
raise  would  melt  away  in  the  glow  of  a  real  pas 
sion.  And  he  wondered  for  a  moment  if  American 
girls  were  not  "  calculating  " — a  word  to  which  he 
had  learned  over  here  to  attach  a  new  and  comical 
meaning. 


y. 

THE  afternoon  after  this  conversation  Miss  For- 
sythe  was  sitting  reading  in  her  favorite  window- 
seat,  when  Mr.  Lyon  was  announced.  Margaret 
was  at. her  school.  There  was  nothing  unusual  in 
this  afternoon  call ;  Mr.  Lyon's  visits  had  become 
frequent  and  informal;  but  Miss  Forsythe  had  a 
nervous  presentiment  that  something  important 
was  to  happen,  that  showed  itself  in  her  greeting, 
and  which  was  perhaps  caught  from  a  certain  new 
diffidence  in  his  manner. 

Perhaps  the  maiden  lady  preserves  more  than 
any  other  this  sensitiveness,  inborn  in  women,  to 
the  approach  of  the  critical  moment  in  the  affairs 
of  the  heart.  The  day  may  some  time  be  past 
when  she  is  sensitive  for  herself — philosophers  say 
otherwise — but  she  is  easily  put  in  a  flutter  by  the 
affair  of  another.  Perhaps  this  is  because  the  neg 
ative  (as  we  say  in  these  days)  which  takes  impres 
sions  retains  all  its  delicacy  from  the  fact  that  none 
of  them  have  ever  been  developed,  and  perhaps  it 
is  a  wise  provision  of  nature  that  age  in  a  heart 
unsatisfied  should  awaken  lively  apprehensive  curi 
osity  and  sympathy  about  the  manifestation  of  the 


62  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

tender  passion  in  others.  It  certainly  is  a  note  of 
the  kindliness  and  charity  of  the  maiden  mind  that 
its  sympathies  are  so  apt  to  be  most  strongly  ex 
cited  in  the  success  of  the  wooer.  This  interest 
may  be  quite  separable  from  the  common  feminine 
desire  to  make  a  match  whenever  there  is  the  least 
chance  of  it.  Miss  Forsythe  was  not  a  match 
maker,  but  Margaret  herself  would  not  have  been 
more  embarrassed  than  she  was  at  the  beginning 
of  this  interview. 

When  Mr.  Lyon  was  seated  she  made  the  book 
she  had  in  her  hand  the  excuse  for  beginning  a 
talk  about  the  confidence  young  novelists  seem  to 
have  in  their  ability  to  upset  the  Christian  relig 
ion  by  a  fictitious  representation  of  life,  but  her 
visitor  was  too  preoccupied  to  join  in  it.  fie  rose 
and  stood  leaning  his  arm  upon  the  mantle-piece, 
and  looking  into  the  fire,  and  said,  abruptly,  at  last : 

"  I  called  to  see  you,  Miss  Forsythe,  to — to  con 
sult  you  about  your  niece." 

"About  her  career?"  asked  Miss  Forsythe,  with 
a  nervous  consciousness  of  falsehood. 

"  Yes,  about  her  career ;  that  is,  in  a  way,"  turn 
ing  towards  her  with  a  little  smile. 

"Yes?" 

"  You  must  have  seen  my  interest  in  her.  You 
must  have  known  wrhy  I  stayed  on  and  on.  But 
it  was,  it  is,  all  so  uncertain.  I  wanted  to  ask  your 
permission  to  speak  my  mind  to  her." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  63 

"Are  you  quite  sure  you  know  your  own  mind  ?" 
asked  Miss  Forsythe,  defensively. 

"  Sure — sure ;  I  have  never  had  the  feeling  for 
any  other  woman  I  have  for  her." 

"  Margaret  is  a  noble  girl ;  she  is  very  indepen 
dent,"  suggested  Miss  Forsythe,  still  avoiding  the 
point. 

"I  know.  I  don't  ask  you  her  feeling."  Mr. 
Lyon  was  standing  quietly  looking  down  into  the 
coals.  "  She  is  the  only  woman  in  the  world  to 
me.  I  love  her.  Are  you  against  me  2"  he  asked, 
suddenly  looking  up,  with  a  flush  in  his  face. 

"  Oh  no !  no !"  exclaimed  Miss  Forsythe,  with 
another  access  of  timidity.  "  I  shouldn't  take  the 
responsibility  of  being  against  you,  or — or  other 
wise.  It  is  very  manly  in  you  to  come  to  me,  and 
I  am  sure  I — we  all — wish  nothing  but  your  own 
happiness.  And  so  far  as  I  am  concerned— 

"Then  I  have  your  permission?"  he  asked,  ea 
gerly. 

"  My  permission,  Mr.  Lyon  ?  why,  it  is  so  new  to 
me,  I  scarcely  realized  that  I  had  any  permission," 
she  said,  with  a  little  attempt  at  pleasantry.  "  But 
as  her  aunt — and  guardian,  as  one  may  say — per 
sonally  I  should  have  the  greatest  satisfaction  to 
know  that  Margaret's  destiny  was  in  the  hands  of 
one  we  all  esteem  and  know  as  we  do  you." 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  coming 
forward  and  seizing  her  hand. 


64  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  But  you  must  let  me  say,  let  me  suggest,  that 
there  are  a  great  many  things  to  be  thought  of. 
There  is  such  a  difference  in  education,  in  all  the 
habits  of  your  lives,  in  all  your  relations.  Mar 
garet  would  never  be  happy  in  a  position  where 
less  was  accorded  to  her  than  she  had  all  her  life. 
Nor  would  her  pride  let  her  take  such  a  position." 

"  But  as  my  wife — 

"Yes,  I  know  that  is  sufficient  in  your  mind. 
Have  you  consulted  your  mother,  Mr.  Lyon  ?" 

"  Not  yet." 

"And  have  you  written  to  any  one  at  home 
about  my  niece  ?" 

"Not  yet." 

"And  does  it  seem  a  little  difficult  to  do  so?" 
This  was  a  probe  that  went  even  deeper  than  the 
questioner  knew.  Mr.  Lyon  hesitated,  seeing  again 
as  in  a  vision  the  astonishment  of  his  family.  He 
was  conscious  of  an  attempt  at  self-deception  when 
he  replied : 

"  Not  difficult,  not  at  all  difficult,  but  I  thought 
I  would  wait  till  I  had  something  definite  to  say." 

"  Margaret  is,  of  course,  perfectly  free  to  act  for 
herself.  She  has  a  very  ardent  nature,  but  at  the 
same  time  a  great  deal  of  what  we  call  common- 
sense.  Though  her  heart  might  be  very  much  en 
gaged,  she  would  hesitate  to  put  herself  in  any  so 
ciety  which  thought  itself  superior  to  her.  You 
see  I  speak  with  great  frankness." 


A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  65 

It  was  a  new  position  for  Mr.  Lyon  to  find  his 
prospective  rank  seemingly  an  obstacle  to  anything 
he  desired.  For  a  moment  the  whimsicality  of  it 
interrupted  the  current  of  his  feeling.  He  thought 
of  the  probable  comments  of  the  men  of  his  London 
club  upon  the  drift  his  conversation  was  taking 
with  a  New  England  spinster  about  his  fitness  to 
marry  a  school-teacher.  With  a  smile  that  was 
summoned  to  hide  his  annoyance,  he  said,  "  I  don't 
see  how  I  can  defend  myself,  Miss  Forsythe." 

"  Oh,"  she  replied,  with  an  answering  smile  that 
recognized  his  view  of  the  humor  of  the  situation, 
"  I  was  not  thinking  of  you,  Mr.  Lyon,  but  of  the 
family  and  the  society  that  my  niece  might  enter, 
to  which  rank  is  of  the  first  importance." 

"  I  am  simply  John  Lyon,  Miss  Forsythe.  I  may 
never  be  anything  else.  But  if  it  were  otherwise,  I 
did  not  suppose  that  Americans  objected  to  rank." 

It  was  an  unfortunate  speech,  felt  to  be  so  the 
instant  it  was  uttered.  Miss  Forsythe's  pride  was 
touched,  and  the  remark  was  not  softened  to  her 
by  the  air  of  half  banter  writh  which  the  sentence 
concluded.  She  said,  with  a  little  stiffness  and  for 
mality  :  "  I  fear,  Mr.  Lyon,  that  your  sarcasm  is  too 
well  merited.  But  there  are  Americans  who  make 
a  distinction  between  rank  and  blood.  Perhaps  it 
is  very  undemocratic,  but  there  is  nowhere  else 
more  pride  of  family,  of  honorable  descent,  than 
here.  We  think  very  much  of  what  we  call  good 
5 


66  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

blood.  And  you  will  pardon  me  for  saying  that 
we  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  some  persons  and 
families  abroad  which  have  the  highest  rank  as 
being  thoroughly  bad  blood.  If  1  am  not  mis 
taken,  you  also  recognize  the  historic  fact  of  ig 
noble  blood  in  the  owners  of  noble  titles.  I  only 
mean,  Mr.  Lyon,"  she  added,  with  a  softening  of 
manner,  "  that  all  Americans  do  not  think  that 
rank  covers  a  multitude  of  sins." 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  get  your  American  point  of  view. 
But  to  return  to  myself,  if  you  will  allow  me,  if  I 
am  so  fortunate  as  to  win  Miss  Debree's  love,  I 
have  no  fear  that  she  would  not  win  the  hearts  of 
all  my  family.  Do  you  think  that  my — my  pro 
spective  position  would  be  an  objection  to  her  ?" 

"Not  your  position,  no,  if  her  heart  were  en 
gaged.  But  expatriation,  involving  a  surrender  of 
all  the  habits  and  traditions  and  associations  of  a 
lifetime  and  of  one's  kindred,  is  a  serious  affair. 
One  would  need  to  be  very  much  in  love" — and 
Miss  Forsythe  blushed  a  little  as  she  said  it — "  to 
make  such  a  surrender." 

"  I  know.  I  am  sure  I  love  her  too  much  to 
wish  to  bring  any  change  in  her  life  that  would 
ever  cause  her  unhappiness." 

"  I  am  glad  to  feel  sure  of  that." 

"  And  so  I  have  your  permission  ?" 

"  Most  sincerely,"  said  Miss  Forsythe,  rising  and 
giving  him  her  hand.  "  I  could  wish  nothing  bet- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  67 

ter  for  Margaret  than  union  with  a  man  like  you. 
But  whatever  I  wrish,  you  two  have  your  destiny 
in  your  own  hands."  Her  tone  was  wholly  frank 
and  cordial,  but  there  was  a  wistful  look  in  her 
face,  as  of  one  who  knew  how  roughly  life  handles 
all  youthful  enthusiasms. 

When  John  Lyon  walked  away  from  her  door 
his  feelings  were  very  much  mixed.  At  one  in 
stant  his  pride  rebelled  against  the  attitude  he  had 
just  assumed.  But  this  was  only  a  flash,  which  he 
put  away  as  unbecoming  a  man  towards  a  true 
woman.  The  next  thought  was  one  of  unselfish 
consideration  for  Margaret  herself.  He  w^ould  not 
subject  her  to  any  chance  of  social  mortifications. 
He  would  wait.  He  would  return  home  and  test 
his  love  by  renewing  his  life-long  associations,  and 
by  the  reception  his  family  would  give  to  his  pro 
posal.  And  the  next  moment  he  saw  Margaret  as 
she  had  become  to  him,  as  she  must  always  be  to 
him.  Should  he  risk  the  loss  of  her  by  timidity  ? 
What  were  all  these  paltry  considerations  to  his 
love  ? 

Was  there  ever  a  young  man  who  could  see  any 
reasons  against  the  possession  of  the  woman  he 
loved  ?  Was  there  ever  any  love  worth  the  name 
that  could  be  controlled  by  calculations  of  expedi 
ency  ?  I  have  no  doubt  that  John  Lyon  went 
through  the  usual  process  which  is  called  weighing 
a  thing  in  the  mind.  It  is  generally  an  amusing 


68  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

process,  and  it  is  consoling  to  the  conscience.  The 
mind  has  little  to  do  with  it  except  to  furnish  the 
platform  on  which  the  scales  are  set  up.  A  hu 
morist  says  that  he  must  have  a  great  deal  of 
mind,  it  takes  him  so  long  to  make  it  up.  There 
is  the  same  apparent  deliberation  where  love  is  con 
cerned.  Everything  "contra"  is  carefully  placed 
in  one  scale  of  the  balance,  and  it  is  always  satis 
factory  and  convincing  to  see  how  quickly  it  kicks 
the  beam  when  love  is  placed  in  the  other  scale. 
The  lightest  love  in  the  world,  under  a  law  as  in 
variable  as  gravitation,  is  heavier  than  any  other 
known  consideration.  It  is  perhaps  doing  injustice 
to  Mr.  Lyon  not  to  dwell  upon  this  struggle  in  his 
mind,  and  to  say  that  in  all  honesty  he  may  not 
have  known  that  the  result  of  it  was  predetermin 
ed.  But  interesting  and  commendable  as  are  these 
processes  of  the  mind,  I  confess  that  I  should 
have  respected  him  less  if  the  result  had  not  been 
predetermined.  And  this  does  not  in  any  way 
take  from  him  the  merit  of  a  restless  night  and  a 
tasteless  breakfast. 

Philosophizers  on  this  topic  say  that  a  man 
ought  always  to  be  able  to  tell  by  a  woman's  de 
meanor  towards  him  whether  she  is  favorably  in 
clined,  and  that  he  need  run  no  risk.  Little  signs, 
the  eyes  alone,  draw  people  together,  and  make 
formal  language  superfluous.  This  theory  is  abun 
dantly  sustained  by  examples,  and  we  might  rest 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  69 

on  it  if  all  women  knew  their  own  minds,  and  if, 
on  the  other  hand,  they  could  always  tell  whether 
a  man  was  serious  before  he  made  a  definite  avow 
al.  There  is  another  notion,  fortunately  not  yet 
extinct,  that  the  manliest  thing  a  man  can  do  is 
to  take  his  life  in  his  hand,  pay  the  woman  he 
loves  the  highest  tribute  in  his  power  by  offering 
her  his  heart  and  name,  and  giving  her  the  definite 
word  that  may  be  the  touchstone  to  reveal  to  her 
self  her  own  feeling.  In  our  conventional  life 
women  must  move  behind  a  mask  in  a  world  of 
uncertainties.  What  wonder  that  many  of  them 
learn  in  their  defensive  position  to  play  a  game, 
and  sometimes  experiment  upon  the  honest  natures 
of  their  admirers !  But  even  this  does  not  absolve 
the  chivalrous  man  from  the  duty  of  frankness  and 
explicitness.  Life  seems  ideal  in  that  far  country 
where  the  handsome  youth  stops  his  carriage  at 
the  gate  of  the  vineyard,  and  says  to  the  laughing 
girl  carrying  a  basket  of  grapes  on  her  head,  "My 
pretty  maid,  will  you  marry  me  ?"  And  the  pretty 
maid,  dropping  a  courtesy,  says,  "  Thank  you,  sir ; 
I  am  already  bespoken,"  or,  "  Thank  you ;  I  will 
consider  of  it  when  I  know  you  better." 

Not  for  a  moment,  I  suppose,  is  a  woman  ever 
ignorant  of  a  man's  admiration  of  her,  however  un 
certain  she  may  be  of  his  intentions,  and  it  was 
with  an  unusual  flutter  of  the  heart  that  Margaret 
received  Mr.  Lyon  that  afternoon.  If  she  had 


TO  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

doubts,  they  were  dissipated  by  a  certain  constraint 
in  his  manner,  and  the  importance  he  seemed  to 
be  attaching  to  his  departure,  and  she  was  warned 
to  go  within  her  defences.  Even  the  most  com 
plaisant  women  like  at  least  the  appearance  of  a 
siege. 

"  I'm  off  to-morrow,"  he  said,  "  for  Washington. 
You  know  you  recommended  it  as  necessary  to  my 
American  education."" 

"  Yes.  We  send  Eepresentatives  and  strangers 
there  to  be  educated.  I  have  never  been  there 
myself." 

"  And  do  you  not  wish  to  go  ?" 

"Very  much.  All  Americans  want  to  go  to 
Washington.  It  is  the  great  social  opportunity; 
everybody  there  is  in  society.  You  will  be  able 
to  see  there,  Mr.  Lyon,  how  a  republican  democracy 
manages  social  life." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  there  are  no  distinctions  ?'' 

"  Oh  no ;  there  are  plenty  of  official  distinctions, 
and  a  code  that  is  very  curious  and  complicated,  I 
believe.  But  still  society  is  open." 

"It  must  be — pardon  me — a  good  deal  like  a 
mob." 

"  Well,  our  mobs  of  that  sort  are  said  to  be  very 
well  behaved.  Mr.  Morgan  says  that  Washington 
is  the  only  capital  in  the  world  where  the  principle 
of  natural  selection  applies  to  society ;  that  it  is 
there  shown  for  the  first  time  that  society  is  able 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  71 

to  take  care  of  itself  in  the  free  play  of  democratic 
opportunities." 

"  It  must  be  very  interesting  to  see  that." 

"  I  hope  you  will  find  it  so.  The  resident  diplo 
mats,  I  have  heard,  say  that  they  find  society  there 
more  agreeable  than  at  any  other  capital — at  least 
those  who  have  the  qualities  to  make  themselves 
agreeable  independent  of  their  rank." 

"  Is  there  nothing  like  a  court  ?  I  cannot  see 
who  sets  the  mode." 

"  Officially  there  may  be  something  like  a  court, 
but  it  can  be  only  temporary,  for  the  personnel  of 
it  is  dissolved  every  four  years.  And  society,  al 
ways  forming  and  reforming,  as  the  voters  of  the 
republic  dictate,  is  almost  independent  of  the  Gov 
ernment,  and  has  nothing  of  the  social  caste  of 
Berlin  or  London." 

"  You  make  quite  an  ideal  picture." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  it  is  not  at  all  ideal;  only  it  is 
rather  fluid,  and  interesting,  to  see  how  society, 
without  caste  and  subject  to  such  constant  change, 
can  still  be  what  is  called  'society.'  And  I  am 
told  that  while  it  is  all  open  in  a  certain  way,  it 
nevertheless  selects  itself  into  agreeable  groups, 
much  as  society  does  elsewhere.  Yes,  you  ought 
to  see  what  a  democracy  can  do  in  this  way." 

"  But  I  am  told  that  money  makes  your  aristoc 
racy  here." 

"Very  likely  rich  people  think  they  are  an  aris- 


72  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

tocracy.  You  see,  Mr.  Lyon,  I  don't  know  much 
about  the  great  world.  Mrs.  Fletcher,  whose  late 
husband  was  once  a  Representative  in  Washington, 
says  that  life  is  not  nearly  so  simple  there  as  it 
used  to  be,  and  that  rich  men  in  the  Government, 
vying  with  rich  men  who  have  built  fine  houses 
and  who  live  there  permanently  without  any  Gov 
ernment  position,  have  introduced  an  element  of 
expense  and  display  that  interferes  very  much 
with  the  natural  selection  of  which  Mr.  Morgan 
speaks.  But  you  will  see.  We  are  all  right  sorry 
to  have  you  leave  us,"  Margaret  added,  turning 
towards  him  with  frank,  unclouded  eyes. 

"  It  is  very  good  in  you  to  say  so.  I  have 
spent  here  the  most  delightful  days  of  my  life." 

"  Oh,  that  is  charming  flattery.  You  will  make 
us  all  very  conceited." 

"  Don't  mock  me,  Miss  Debree.  I  hoped  I  had 
awakened  something  more  valuable  to  me  than 
conceit,"  Lyon  said,  with  a  smile. 

"  You  have,  I  assure  you :  gratitude.  You  have 
opened  quite  another  world  to  us.  Reading  about 
foreign  life  does  not  give  one  at  all  the  same  im 
pression  of  it  that  seeing  one  who  is  a  part  of  it 
does." 

"  And  don't  you  want  to  see  that  life  for  your 
self  ?  I  hope  some  time — 

"Of  course,"  Margaret  said,  interrupting;  "all 
Americans  expect  to  go  to  Europe.  I  have  a 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  73 

friend  who  says  she  should  be  mortified  if  she 
reached  heaven  and  there  had  to  confess  that  she 
never  had  seen  Europe.  It  is  one  of  the  things 
that  is  expected  of  a  person.  Though  you  know 
now  that  the  embarrassing  question  that  every 
body  has  to  answer  is, '  Have  you  been  to  Alaska  ?' 
Have  you  been  to  Alaska,  Mr.  Lyon  ?" 

This  icy  suggestion  seemed  very  inopportune  to 
Lyon.  He  rose  and  walked  a  step  or  two,  and 
stood  by  the  fire  facing  her.  He  confessed,  look 
ing  down,  that  he  had  not  been  in  Alaska,  and  he 
had  no  desire  to  go  there. 

"In  fact,  Miss  Debree,"  he  said,  with  effort  at 
speaking  lightly,  "  I  fear  I  am  not  in  a  geographi 
cal  mood  to-day.  I  came  to  say  good-bye,  and— 
and— 

"  Shall  I  call  my  aunt  ?"  said  Margaret,  rising 
also. 

"  No,  I  beg ;  I  had  something  to  say  that  con 
cerns  us ;  that  is,  that  concerns  myself.  I  couldn't 
go  away  without  knowing  from  you — that  is,  with 
out  telling  you — 

The  color  rose  in  Margaret's  cheek,  and  she 
made  a  movement  of  embarrassment,  and  said,  with 
haste :  "  Some  other  time ;  I  beg  you  will  not  say— 
I  trust  that  I  have  done  nothing  that — 

"  Nothing,  nothing,"  he  went  on  quickly  ;  "  noth 
ing  except  to  be  yourself ;  to  be  the  one  woman  " 
— he  would  not  heed  her  hand  raised  in  a  gesture 


74  A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

of  protest ;  he  stood  nearer  her  now,  his  face  flush 
ed  and  his  eyes  eager  with  determination — "the 
one  woman  I  care  for.  Margaret,  Miss  Debree,  I 
love  you !" 

Her  hand  that  rested  on  the  table  trembled,  and 
the  hot  blood  rushed  to  her  face,  flooding  her  in 
an  agony  of  shame,  pleasure,  embarrassment,  and 
anger  that  her  face  should  contradict  the  want  of 
tenderness  in  her  eyes.  In  an  instant  self-posses 
sion  came  back  to  her  mind,  but  not  strength  to 
her  body,  and  she  sank  int£>  the  chair,  and  looking 
up,  with  only  pity  in  her  eyes,  said,  "  I  am  sorry." 

Lyon  stopped ;  his  heart  seemed  to  stand  still ; 
the  blood  left  his  face ;  for  an  instant  the  sunshine 
left  the  world.  It  was  a  terrible  blow,  the  worst  a 
man  can  receive— a  bludgeon  on  the  head  is  noth 
ing  to  it.  He  half  turned,  he  looked  again  for  an 
instant  at  the  form  that  was  more  to  him  than  all 
the  world  besides,  unable  to  face  the  dreadful  loss, 
and  recovering  speech,  falteringly  said,  "Is  that 
all?" 

"  That  is  all,  Mr.  Lyon,"  Margaret  answered,  not 
looking  up,  and  in  a  voice  that  was  perfectly 
steady. 

He  turned  to  go  mechanically,  and  passed  to  the 
door  in  a  sort  of  daze,  forgetful  of  all  convention 
ality  ;  but  habit  is  strong,  and  he  turned  almost 
immediately  back  from  the  passage.  Margaret  was 
still  sitting,  with  no  recognition  of  his  departure. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  75 

"  I  beg  you  will  make  my  excuses,  and  say  good 
bye  to  Miss  Forsythe.  I  had  mentioned  it  to  her. 
I  thought  perhaps  she  had  told  you,  perhaps —  I 
should  like  to  know  if  it  is  anything  about  differ 
ence  in — in  nationality,  about  family,  or — 

"No,  no,"  said  Margaret;  "this  could  never  be 
anything  but  a  personal  question  with  me.  I— 

"  But  you  said,  *  some  other  time.'  Might  I  ever 
expect— 

"  No,  no ;  there  is  no  other  time ;  do  not  go  on. 
It  can  only  be  painful."  And  then,  with  a  forced 
cheerfulness :  "  You  will  no  doubt  thank  me  some 
day.  Your  life  must  be  so  different  from  mine. 
And  you  must  not  doubt  my  esteem,  my  apprecia 
tion"  (her  sense  of  justice  forced  this  from  her), 
"  my  good  wishes.  Good-bye."  She  gave  him  her 
hand.  He  held  it  for  a  second,  and  then  was  gone. 

She  heard  his  footstep,  rapid  and  receding.  So 
he  had  really  gone !  She  was  not  sorry— no.  If 
she  could  have  loved  him !  She  sank  back  in  her 
chair.  No,  she  could  not  love  him.  The  man  to 
command  her  heart  must  be  of  another  type.  But 
the  greatest  experience  in  a  woman's  life  had  come 
to  her  here,  just  now,  in  this  commonplace  room. 
A  man  had  said  he  loved  her.  A  thousand  times 
as  a  girl  she  had  dreamed  of  that,  hardly  confess 
ing  it  to  herself,  and  thought  of  such  a  scene,  and 
feared  it.  And  a  man  had  said  that  he  loved  her. 
Her  eyes  grew  tenderer  and  her  face  burned  at  the 


76  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

thought.  Was  it  with  pleasure  ?  Yes,  and  with 
womanly  pain.  What  an  awful  thing  it  was ! 
Why  couldn't  he  have  seen  ?  A  man  had  said  he 
loved  her.  Perhaps  it  was  not  in  her  to  love  any 
one.  Perhaps  she  should  live  on  and  on  like  her 
aunt  Forsy  the.  Well,  it  was  over ;  and  Margaret 
roused  herself  as  her  aunt  entered  the  room. 

"  Has  Mr.  Lyon  been  here  ?" 

"  Yes ;  he  has  just  gone.  He  was  so  sorry  not 
to  see  you  and  say  good-bye.  He  left  ever  so 
many  messages  for  you." 

"And"  (Margaret  was  moving  as  if  to  go) — "did 
he  say  nothing — nothing  to  you  ?" 

"  Oh  yes,  he  said  a  great  deal,"  answered  this 
accomplished  hypocrite,  looking  frankly  in  her 
aunt's  eyes.  "  He  said  how  delightful  his  visit  had 
been,  and  how  sorry  he  was  to  go." 

"  And  nothing  else,  Margaret  ?" 

"  Oh  yes ;  he  said  he  was  going  to  Washington." 
And  the  girl  was  gone  from  the  room. 


VI. 

MARGARET  hastened  to  her  chamber.  Was  the 
air  oppressive  ?  She  opened  the  window  and  sat 
down  by  it.  A  soft  south  wind  was  blowing,  eat 
ing  away  the  remaining  patches  of  snow ;  the  sky 
was  full  of  fleecy  clouds.  Where  do  these  days 
come  from  in  January  ?  Why  should  nature  be  in 
a  melting  mood  ?  Margaret  instinctively  would 
have  preferred  a  wild  storm,  violence,  anything 
but  this  elemental  languor.  Her  emotion  was  in 
credible  to  herself. 

It  was  only  an  incident.  It  had  all  happened  in 
a  moment,  and  it  was  over.  But  it  was  the  first  of 
the  kind  in  a  woman's  life.  The  thrilling,  mysteri 
ous  word  had  been  dropped  into  a  woman's  heart. 
Hereafter  she  would  be  changed.  She  never  again 
would  be  as  she  was  before.  Would  her  heart  be 
hardened  or  softened  by  the  experience  ? 

She  did  not  love  him ;  that  was  clear.  She  had 
done  right ;  that  was  clear.  But  he  had  said  he 
loved  her.  Unwittingly  she  was  following  him  in 
her  thought.  She  had  rejected  plain  John  Lyon, 
amiable,  intelligent,  unselfish,  kindly,  deferential. 
She  had  rejected  also  the  Earl  of  Chisholm,  a  con- 


78  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

spicuous  position,  an  honorable  family,  luxury,  a 
great  opportunity  in  life.  It  came  to  the  girl  in  a 
Hash.  She  moved  nervously  in  her  chair.  She  put 
down  the  thought  as  unworthy  of  her.  But  she 
had  entertained  it  for  a  moment.  In  that  second, 
ambition  had  entered  the  girl's  soul.  She  had  a 
glimpse  of  her  own  nature  that  seemed  new  to  her. 
Was  this,  then,  the  meaning  of  her  restlessness,  of 
her  charitable  activities,  of  her  unconfessed  dreams 
of  some  career  ?  Ambition  had  entered  her  soul  in 
a  definite  form.  She  expelled  it.  It  would  come 
again  in  some  form  or  other.  She  was  indignant 
at  herself  as  she  thought  of  it.  How  odd  it  was ! 
Her  privacy  had  been  invaded.  The  even  tenor  of 
her  life  had  been  broken.  Henceforth  would  she 
be  less  or  more  sensitive  to  the  suggestion  of  love, 
to  the  allurements  of  ambition?  Margaret  tried, 
in  accordance  with  her  nature,  to  be  sincere  with 
herself. 

After  all,  what  nonsense  it  was !  Nothing  real 
ly  had  happened.  A  stranger  of  a  few  weeks  be 
fore  had  declared  himself.  She  did  not  love  him ; 
he  was  no  more  to  her  than  any  other  man.  It 
was  a  common  occurrence.  Her  judgment  accord 
ed  with  her  feeling  in  what  she  had  done.  How 
was  she  to  know  that  she  had  made  a  mistake,  if 
mistake  it  was  ?  How  was  she  to  know  that  this 
hour  was  a  crisis  in  her  life?  Surely  the  little 
tumult  would  pass  ;  surely  the  little  whisper  of 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  79 

worldliness  could  not  disturb  her  ideals.  But  all 
the  power  of  exclusion  in  her  mind  could  not  ex 
clude  the  returning  thought  of  what  might  have 
been  if  she  had  loved  him.  Alas !  in  that  moment 
was  born  in  her  heart  something  that  would  make 
the  idea  of  love  less  simple  than  it  had  been  in  her 
mind.  She  was  heart-free,  but  her  nature  was  too 
deep  not  to  be  profoundly  affected  by  this  experi 
ence. 

Looking  back  upon  this  afternoon  in  the  light  of 
after-years,  she  probably  could  not  feel — no  one 
could  say— that  she  had  done  wrong.  How  was 
she  to  tell?  Why  is  it  that  to  do  the  right  thing 
is  often  to  make  the  mistake  of  a  life?  Nothing 
could  have  been  nobler  than  for  Margaret  indig 
nantly  to  put  aside  a  temptation  that  her  heart 
told  her  was  unworthy.  And  yet  if  she  had  yield 
ed  to  it  ? 

I  ought  to  ask  pardon,  perhaps,  for  dwelling 
upon  a  thing  so  slight  as  the  entrance  of  a  thought 
in  a  woman's  life.  For  as  to  Margaret,  she  seemed 
unchanged.  She  made  no  sign  that  anything  unu 
sual  had  occurred.  We  only  knew  that  Mr.  Lyon 
went  away  less  cheerful  than  he  usually  was,  that 
he  said  nothing  of  returning  in  response  to  our  in 
vitations,  and  that  he  seemed  to  anticipate  nothing 
but  the  fulfilment  of  a  duty  in  his  visit  to  Wash 
ington. 

What  had  happened  was  regarded  as  only  an 


80  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

episode.  In  fact,  however,  I  doubt  if  there  are  any 
episodes  in  our  lives,  any  asides,  that  do  not  per 
manently  affect  our  entire  career.  Are  not  the 
episodes,  the  casual  thoughts,  the  fortuitous,  un 
planned  meetings,  the  brief  and  maybe  at  the  mo 
ment  unnoted  events,  those  which  exercise  the  most 
influence  on  our  destiny  ?  To  all  observation  the 
career  of  Lyon,  and  not  of  Margaret,  was  most 
affected  by  their  interview.  But  often  the  im 
planting  of  an  idea  in  the  mind  is  more  potent 
than  the  frustration  of  a  plan  or  the  gratification 
of  a  desire,  so  hidden  are  the  causes  that  make 
character. 

For  some  time  I  saw  little  of  Margaret.  Affairs 
in  which  I  was  not  alone  or  chiefly  concerned  took 
me  from  home.  One  of  the  most  curious  and  in 
teresting  places  in  the  world  is  a  Chamber  in  the 
business  heart  of  New  York — if  that  scene  of  strug 
gle  and  passion  can  be  said  to  have  a  heart — situ 
ated  midway  where  the  currents  of  eagerness  to 
acquire  the  money  of  other  people,  not  to  make  it, 
ceaselessly  meet  and  dash  against  each  other.  If 
we  could  suppose  there  was  a  web  covering  this 
region,  spun  by  the  most  alert  and  busy  of  men  to 
catch  those  less  alert  and  more  productive,  here  in 
this  Chamber  would  sit  the  ingenious  spiders.  But 
the  analogy  fails,  for  spiders  do  not  prey  upon  each 
other.  Scientists  say  that  the  human  system  has 
two  nerve-centres — one  in  the  brain,  to  which  and  , 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  81 

from  which  are  telegraphed  all  movements  depend 
ing  upon  the  will,  and  another  in  the  small  of  the 
back,  the  centre  of  the  involuntary  operations  of 
respiration,  digestion,  and  so  on.  It  may  be  fanci 
ful  to  suppose  that  in  the  national  system  Wash 
ington  is  the  one  nervous  centre  and  New  York 
the  other.  And  yet  it  does  sometimes  seem  that 
the  nerves  and  ganglions  in  the  small  of  the  back 
in  the  commercial  metropolis  act  automatically  and 
without  any  visible  intervention  of  intelligence. 
For  all  that,  their  operations  may  be  as  essential  as 
the  other,  in  which  the  will-power  sometimes  gets 
into  a  dead -lock,  and  sometimes  telegraphs  the 
most  eccentric  and  incomprehensible  orders.  Puz 
zled  by  these  contradictions,  some  philosophers 
have  said  that  there  may  be  somewhere  outside  of 
these  two  material  centres  another  power  that 
keeps  affairs  moving  along  with  some  steadiness. 

This  noble  Chamber  has  a  large  irregular  area  of 
floor  space,  is  very  high,  and  has  running  round 
three  sides  a  narrow  elevated  gallery,  from  which 
spectators  can  look  down  upon  the  throng  below. 
Upon  a  raised  dais  at  one  side  sits  the  presiding 
genius  of  the  place,  who  rules  very  much  as  Jupi 
ter  was  supposed  to  govern  the  earthly  swarms,  by 
letting  things  run  and  occasionally  launching  a 
thunder-bolt.  High  up  no  one  side,  in  an  Olympian 
seclusion,  away  from  the  noise  and  the  strife,  sits  a 
Board,  calm  as  fate,  and  panoplied  in  the  responsi- 


82  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

bility  of  chance,  whose  function  seems  to  be  that  of 
switch-shifters  in  their  windowed  cubby  at  a  net 
work  of  railway  intersections— to  prevent  collisions. 

At  both  ends  of  the  floor  and  along  one  side  are 
narrow  railed-off  spaces  full  of  clerks  figuring  at 
desks,  of  telegraph  operators  clicking  their  ma 
chines,  of  messenger -boys  arriving  and  departing 
in  haste,  of  unprivileged  operators  nervously  watch 
ing  the  scene  and  waiting  the  chance  of  a  word 
with  some  one  on  the  floor;  through  noiseless 
swinging  doors  men  are  entering  and  departing 
every  moment — men  in  a  hurry,  men  with  anxious 
faces,  conscious  that  the  fate  of  the  country  is  in 
their  hands.  On  the  floor  itself  are  five  hundred, 
perhaps  a  thousand,  men,  gathered  for  the  most 
part  in  small  groups  about  little  stands  upon  the 
summit  of  which  is  a  rallying  legend,  talking, 
laughing,  screaming,  good-natured,  indifferent,  ex 
cited,  running  hither  and  thither  in  response  to 
changing  figures  in  the  checker-board  squares  on 
the  great  wrall  opposite — calm,  cynical  one  moment, 
the  next  violently  agitated,  shouting,  gesticulating, 
rushing  together,  shaking  their  fists  in  a  tumult  of 
passion  which  presently  subsides. 

The  swarms  ebb  and  flow  about  these  little 
stands — bees,  not  bringing  any  honey,  but  attract 
ed  to  the  hive  where  it  is  rumored  most  honey  is 
to  be  had.  By  habit  some  always  stand  or  sit 
about  a  particular  hive,  waiting  for  the  show  of 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  83 

comb.  By-and-by  there  is  a  stir ;  the  crowd  thick 
ens  ;  one  beardless  youth  shouts  out  the  figure 
"one-half";  another  howls,  "three-eighths."  The 
first  one  nods.  It  is  done.  The  electric  wire  run 
ning  up  the  stand  quivers  and  takes  the  figure, 
passes  it  to  all  the  other  wires,  transmits  it  to 
every  office  and  hotel  in  the  city,  to  all  the  "  tick 
ers  "  in  ten  thousand  chambers  and  "  bucket-shops  " 
and  offices  in  the  republic.  Suddenly  on  the  bulle 
tin-boards  in  New  Orleans,  Chicago,  San  Francisco, 
Podunk,  Liverpool,  appear  the  mysterious  "  three- 
eighths,"  electrifying  the  watchers  of  these  boards, 
who  begin  to  jabber  and  gesticulate  and  "  transact 
business."  It  is  wonderful. 

What  induced  the  beardless  young  man  to  make 
this  "investment"  in  "  three  -  eighths  " — who  can 
tell?  Perhaps  he  had  heard,  as  he  came  into  the 
room,  that  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  was  going 
to  make  a  call  of  Fives ;  perhaps  he  had  heard  that 
Bismarck  had  said  that  the  French  blood  was  too 
thin  and  needed  a  little  more  iron ;  perhaps  he  had 
heard  that  a  norther  in  Texas  had  killed  a  herd  of 
cattle,  or  that  two  grasshoppers  had  been  seen  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Fargo,  or  that  Jay  Hawker 
had  been  observed  that  morning  hurrying  to  his 
brokers  with  a  scowl  on  his  face  and  his  hat  pulled 
over  his  eyes.  The  young  man  sold  what  he  did 
not  have,  and  the  other  young  man  bought  what 
he  will  never  get. 


84  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

This  is  business  of  the  higher  and  almost  imma 
terial  sort,  and  has  an  element  of  faith  in  it,  and, 
as  one  may  say,  belief  in  the  unseen,  whence  it  is 
characterized  by  an  expression  — "  dealing  in  fut 
ures."  It  is  not  gambling,  for  there  are  no  "  chips  " 
used,  and  there  is  no  roulette -table  in  sight,  and 
there  are  no  piles  of  money  or  piles  of  anything 
else.  It  is  not  a  lottery,  for  there  is  no  wheel 
at  which  impartial  men  preside  to  insure  honest 
drawings,  and  there  are  no  predestined  blanks  and 
prizes,  and  the  man  who  buys  and  the  man  who 
sells  can  do  something,  either  in  the  newspapers  or 
elsewhere,  to  affect  the  worth  of  the  investment, 
whereas  in  a  lottery  everything  depends  upon  the' 
turn  of  the  blind  wheel.  It  is  not  necessary,  how 
ever,  to  attempt  a  defence  of  the  Chamber.  It  is 
one  of  the  recognized  ways  of  becoming  important 
and  powerful  in  this  world.  The  privilege  of  the 
floor — a  seat,  as  it  is  called — in  this  temple  of  the 
god  Chance  to  be  Rich  is  worth  more  than  a  seat 
in  the  Cabinet.  It  is  not  only  true  that  a  fortune 
may  be  made  here  in  a  day  or  lost  here  in  a  day, 
but  that  a  nod  and  a  wink  here  enable  people  all 
over  the  land  to  ruin  others  or  ruin  themselves 
with  celerity.  The  relation  of  the  Chamber  to  the 
business  of  the  country  is  therefore  evident.  If  an 
earthquake  should  suddenly  sink  this  temple  and 
all  its  votaries  into  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  with 
all  its  nervousness  and  all  its  electricity,  it  is  ap- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  85 

palling  to  think  what  would  become  of  the  business 
of  the  country. 

Not  far  from  this  vast  Chamber,  where  great 
financial  operations  are  conducted  on  the  highest 
principles  of  honor,  and  with  the  strictest  regard 
to  the  Marquis  of  Dusenbury's  rules,  there  is  an 
other  less  pretentious  Chamber,  known  as  "  open," 
a  sort  of  overflow  meeting.  Those  who  have  not 
quite  left  hope  behind  can  go  in  here.  Here  are 
the  tickers  communicating  with  the  Chamber,  tend 
ed  by  lads,  who  transfer  the  figures  to  big  black 
boards  on  the  wall.  In  front  of  these  boards  sit, 
from  morning  to  night,  rows,  perhaps  relays,  of 
men  intently  or  listlessly  watching  the  figures. 
Many  of  them,  who  seldom  make  a  sign,  come  here 
from  habit ;  they  have  nowhere  else  to  go.  Some 
of  them  were  once  lords  in  the  great  Chamber,  who 
have  been,  as  the  phrase  is,  "  cleaned  out."  There 
is  a  gray-bearded  veteran  in  seedy  clothes,  with 
sunken,  fiery  eyes,  who  was  once  many  times  a 
millionaire,  was  a  power  in  the  Board,  followed  by 
reporters,  had  a  palace  in  the  Avenue,  and  drove  to 
his  office  with  coachman  and  footman  in  livery, 
and  his  wife  headed  the  list  of  charities.  Now  he 
spends  his  old  age  watching  this  black-board,  and 
considers  it  a  good  day  that  brings  him  five  dollars 
and  his  car-fare.  At  one  end  of  the  low -ceiled 
apartment  are  busy  clerks  behind  a  counter,  alert 
and  cheerful.  If  one  should  go  through  a  side 


86  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

door  and  down  a  passage  lie  might  encounter 
the  smell  of  rum.  Smart  young  men,  clad  in  the 
choicest  raiment  from  the  misfit  counters,  with 
greed  stamped  on  their  astute  faces,  bustle  about, 
watch  the  black-boards,  and  make  investments 
with  each  other.  Middle-aged  men  in  slouch  hats 
lounge  around  with  hungry  eyes.  The  place  is 
feverish  rather  than  exciting.  A  tall  fellow, 
whose  gait  and  clothes  proclaim  him  English, 
with  a  hard  face  and  lack-lustre  eyes,  saunters 
about ;  his  friends  at  home  suppose  he  is  making 
his  fortune  in  America.  A  dapper  young  gentle 
man,  quite  in  the  mode,  and  with  the  quick  air  of 
prosperity,  rapidly  enters  the  room  and  confers 
with  a  clerk  at  the  counter.  He  has  the  run  of 
the  Chamber,  and  is  from  the  great  house  of 
Flamm  and  Slamm.  Perhaps  he  is  taking  a 
"flier"  on  his  own  account,  perhaps  he  represents 
his  house  in  a  side  transaction — there  are  so  many 
ways  open  to  enterprising  young  men  in  the  city ; 
at  any  rate,  his  entrance  is  regarded  as  significant. 
This  is  not  a  hospital  for  the  broken  down  and 
"  cleaned  out "  of  the  Chamber,  but  it  is  a  place  of 
business,  which  is  created  and  fed  by  the  incessant 
"  ticker."  How  men  existed  or  did  any  business  at 
all  before  the  advent  of  the  "ticker"  is  a  wonder. 
But  the  Chamber,  the  creator  of  low-pressure 
and  high-pressure,  the  inspirer  of  the  "  ticker,"  is 
the  great  generator  of  business.  Here  I  found 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  87 

Henderson  in  the  morning  hour,  and  he  came  up 
to  me  on  the  call  of  a  messenger.  He  approached, 
nonchalant  and  smiling  as  usual. 

"  Do  you  see  that  man,"  he  said,  as  we  stood  a 
moment  looking  down,  "sitting  there  on  a  side 
bench— big  body,  small  head,  hair  grayish,  long 
beard  parted  —  apparently  taking  no  interest  in 
anything?  That's  Flink,  who  made  the  corner  in 
O.  B. — one  of  the  longest-headed  operators  in  the 
Chamber.  He  is  about  the  only  man  who  dare  try 
a  hold  with  Jay  Hawker.  And  for  some  reason  or 
another,  though  they  have  apparent  tussles,  Hawk 
er  rather  favors  him.  Five  years  ago  he  could 
just  raise  money  enough  to  get  into  the  Chamber. 
Xow  he  is  reckoned  at  anywhere  from  five  to  ten 
millions.  I  was  at  his  home  the  other  night. 
Everybody  was  there.  I  had  a  queer  feeling,  in 
all  the  magnificence,  that  the  sheriff  might  be  in 
there  in  ten  days.  Yet  he  may  own  a  good  slice 
of  the  island  in  ten  years.  His  wife,  whom  I  com 
plimented,  and  who  thanked  me  for  coming,  said 
she  had  invited  none  but  the  reshershy." 

"He  looks  like  a  rascal,"  I  ventured  to  re 
mark. 

"  Oh,  that  is  not  a  word  used  in  the  Chamber. 
He  is  called  a  '  daisy.'  I  was  put  into  his  pew  in 
church  the  other  Sunday,  and  the  preacher  de 
scribed  him  and  his  methods  so  exactly  that  I 
didn't  dare  look  at  him.  When  we  came  out  he 


88  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

whispered,  i  That  was  rather  hard  on  Slack ;  he 
must  have  felt  it.'  These  men  rather  like  that 
sort  of  preaching." 

"  I  don't  come  here  often,"  Henderson  resumed, 
as  we  walked  away.  "  The  market  is  flat  to-day. 
There  promised  to  be  a  little  flurry  in  L.  and  P., 
and  I  looked  in  for  a  customer." 

We  walked  to  his  down -town  club  to  lunch. 
Everybody,  I  noticed,  seemed  to  know  Henderson, 
and  his  presence  was  hailed  with  a  cordial  smile,  a 
good-humored  nod,  or  a  hearty  grasp  of  the  hand. 
I  never  knew  a  more  prepossessing  man ;  his  bon 
homie  was  infectious.  Though  his  demeanor  was 
perfectly  quiet  and  modest,  he  carried  the  air  of 
good-fellowship.  He  was  entirely  frank,  cordial, 
and  had  that  sort  of  sincerity  which  one  can  afford 
to  have  who  does  not  take  life  too  seriously.  Tall 
— at  least  six  feet — with  a  well-shaped  head  set  on 
square  shoulders,  browrn  hair  inclined  to  curl,  large 
blue  eyes  which  could  be  merry  or  exceedingly 
grave,  I  thought  him  a  picture  of  manly  beauty. 
Good-natured,  clever,  prosperous,  and  not  yet  thir 
ty.  What  a  dower! 

After  we  had  disposed  of  our  little  matter  of 
business,  which  I  confess  was  not  exactly  satisfac 
tory  to  me,  although  when  I  was  told  that  "  the 
first  bondholders  will  be  obliged  to  come  in,"  he 
added  that  "  of  course  we  shall  take  care  of  our 
friends,"  we  went  to  his  bachelor  quarters  up- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  89 

town.  "  I  want  you  to  see,"  he  said,  "  how  a  her 
mit  lives." 

The  apartments  were  not  my  idea  of  a  hermit 
age —  except  in  the  city.  A  charming  library, 
spacious,  but  so  full  as  to  be  cosey,  with  an  open 
fire ;  chamber,  dressing-room,  and  bath-room  con 
necting,  furnished  with  everything  that  a  luxurious 
habit  could  suggest  and  good  taste  would  not  re 
fuse,  made  a  retreat  that  could  almost  reconcile  a 
sinner  to  solitude.  There  were  a  few  good  paint 
ings,  many  rare  engravings,  on  the  walls,  a  notable 
absence,  even  in  the  sleeping-room,  of  photographs 
of  actresses  and  professional  beauties,  but  here  and 
there  souvenirs  of  travel  and  evidences  that  the 
gentler  sex  had  contributed  the  skill  of  their 

o 

slender  fingers  to  the  cheerfulness  of  the  bachelor's 

o 

home.  Scattered  about  were  the  daily  and  month 
ly  products  of  the  press,  the  newest  sensations,  the 
things  talked  about  at  dinners,  but  the  walls  for 
the  most  part  were  lined  with  books  that  are  rec 
ognized  as  the  proper  possessions  of  the  lover  of 
books,  and  most  of  them  in  exquisite  bindings. 
Less  care,  I  thought,  had  been  given  in  the  collec 
tion  to  "  sets  "  of  "  standards  "  than  to  those  that 
are  rare,  or  for  some  reason,  either  from  distin 
guished  ownership  or  autograph  notes>  have  a 
peculiar  value. 

In  this  atmosphere,  when  we  were  prepared  to 
take  our  ease,  the  talk  was  no  longer  of  stocks,  or 


90  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

]  railways,  or  schemes,  but  of  books.  Whether  or 
not  Henderson  loved  literature  I  did  not  then 
make  up  my  mind,  but  he  had  a  passion  for  books, 
especially  for  rare  and  first  editions ;  and  the  de 
light  with  which  he  exhibited  his  library,  the  man 
ner  in  which  he  handled  the  books  that  he  took 
down  one  after  the  other,  the  sparkle  in  his  eyes 
over  a  "find"  or  a  bargain,  gave  me  a  side  of  his 
character  quite  different  from  that  I  should  have 
gained  by  seeing  him  "in  the  street"  only.  He 
had  that  genuine  respect  and  affection  for  a 
"  book "  which  has  become  almost  traditional  in 
these  days  of  cheap  and  flimsy  publications,  a 
taste  held  by  scholars  and  collectors,  and  quite  be 
yond  the  popular  comprehension.  The  respect  for 
a  book  is  essential  to  the  dignity  and  consideration 
of  the  place  of  literature  in  the  world,  and  when 
books  are  treated  with  no  more  regard  than  the 
newspaper,  it  is  a  sign  that  literature  is  losing  its 
power.  Even  the  collector,  who  may  read  little 
and  care  more  for  the  externals  than  for  the  soul 
of  his  favorites,  by  the  honor  he  pays  them,  by  the 
solicitude  he  expends  upon  their  preservation  with 
out  spot,  by  the  lavishness  of  expense  upon  bind 
ing,  contributes  much  to  the  dignity  of  that  art 
which  preserves  for  the  race  the  continuity  of  its 
thought  and  development.  If  Henderson  loved 
books  merely  as  a  collector  whose  taste  for  luxury 
and  expense  takes  this  direction,  his  indulgence 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  91 

could  not  but  have  a  certain  refining  influence.  I 
could  not  see  that  he  cultivated  any  decided  spe 
cialty,  but  he  had  many  rare  copies  which  had  cost 
fabulous  prices,  the  possession  of  which  gives  a 
reputation  to  any  owner.  "  My  shelves  of  Ameri 
cana,"  he  said,  "  are  nothing  like  Goodloe's,  who 
has  a  lot  of  scarce  things  that  I  am  hoping  to  get 
hold  of  some  day.  But  there's  a  little  thing"  (it 
was  a  small  coffee-colored  tract  of  six  leaves,  upon 
which  the  binder  of  the  city  had  exercised  his  ut 
most  skill)  "  which  Goodloe  offered  me  five  hun 
dred  dollars  for  the  other  day.  I  picked  it  up  in  a 
New  Hampshire  garret."  Not  the  least  interesting 
part  of  the  collection  was  first  editions  of  Ameri 
can  authors — a  person's  value  to  a  collector  is  often 
in  proportion  to  his  obscurity — and  what  most  de 
lighted  him  among  them  were  certain  thin  volumes 
of  poetry,  which  the  authors  since  becoming  fa 
mous  had  gone  to  a  good  deal  of  time  and  expense 
to  suppress.  The  world  seems  to  experience  a 
lively  pleasure  in  holding  a  man  to  his  early  follies. 
There  were  many  examples  of  superb  binding,  es 
pecially  of  exquisite  tooling  on  hog-skin—covers 
the  appreciation  of  which  has  lately  greatly  re 
vived.  The  recent  rage  for  bindings  has  been  a 
sore  trouble  to  students  and  collectors  in  special 
lines,  raising  the  prices  of  books  far  beyond  their 
intrinsic  value.  I  had  a  charming  afternoon  in 
Henderson's  library,  a*n  enjoyment  not  much  less- 


92  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

ened  at  the  time  by  experiencing  in  it,  with  him, 
rather  a  sense  of  luxury  than  of  learning.  It  is 
true,  one  might  pass  an  hour  altogether  different 
in  the  garret  of  a  student,  and  come  away  with 
quite  other  impressions  of  the  pageant  of  life. 

At  five  o'clock  his  stylish  trap  was  sent  around 
from  the  boarding  stable,  and  we  dro\7e  in  the  Park 
till  twilight.  Henderson,  handling  the  reins,  and 
making  a  part  of  that  daily  display  which  is  too 
heterogeneous  to  have  distinction,  reverted  quite 
naturally  to  the  tone  of  worldliness  and  tolerant 
cynicism  which  had  characterized  his  conversation 
in  the  morning.  If  the  Park  and  the  moving  as 
semblage  had  not  the  air  of  distinction,  it  had  that 
of  expense,  which  is  quite  as  attractive  to  many. 
Here,  as  down  -  town,  my  companion  seemed  to 
know  and  be  known  by  everybody,  returning  the 
familiar  salutes  of  brokers  and  club  men,  receiving 
gracious  bows  from  stout  matrons,  smiles  and  nods 
from  pretty  women,  and  more  formal  recognition 
from  stately  and  stiff  elderly  men,  who  sat  bolt- 
upright  beside  their  wives  and  tried  to  look  like 
millionaires.  For  every  passer-by  Henderson  had 
a  quick  word  of  characterization  sufficiently  amus 
ing,  and  about  many  a  story  which  illuminated  the 
social  life  of  the  day.  It  was  wonderful  how  many 
of  this  chance  company  had  little  "  histories  "- 
comic,  tragic,  pitiful,  interesting  enough  for  the 
pages  of  a  novel. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  93 

"  There  is  a  young  lady  " — Henderson  touched 
his  hat,  and  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  golden  hair  and 
a  flash  of  dark  eyes  out  of  a  mass  of  furs — "  who 
has  no  history :  the  world  is  all  before  her." 

"  Who  is  that  ?" 

"  The  daughter  of  old  Eschelle — Carmen  Eschelle 
—the  banker  and  politician,  you  remember ;  had  a 
diplomatic  position  abroad,  and  the  girl  was  edu 
cated  in  Europe.  She  is  very  clever.  She  and  her 
mother  have  more  money  than  they  ought  to 
know  what  to  do  with." 

"  That  was  the  celebrated  Jay  Hawker  "  (a  mo 
ment  after),  "  in  the  modest  coupe — not  much  dis 
play  about  him." 

"  Is  he  recognized  by  respectable  people  ?" 

" Recognized ?"  Henderson  laughed.  "He's  a 
power.  There  are  plenty  of  people  who  live  by 
trying  to  guess  what  he  is  going  to  do.  Hawker 
isn't  such  a  bad  fellow.  Other  people  have  used 
the  means  he  used  to  get  rich  and  haven't  succeed 
ed.  They  are  not  held  up  to  point  a  moral.  The 
trouble  is  that  Hawker  succeeded.  Of  course  it's 
a  game.  He  plays  as  fair  as  anybody." 

"Yes,"  Henderson  resumed,  walking  his  horses 
in  sight  of  the  obelisk,  which  suggested  the  long 
continuance  of  the  human  race,  "  it  is  the  same 
old  game,  and  it  is  very  interesting  to  those  who 
are  in  it.  Outsiders  think  it  is  all  greed.  In  the 
Chamber  it  is  a  good  deal  the  love  of  the  game,  to 


94  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

watch  each  other,  to  find  out  a  man's  plans,  to 
circumvent  him,  to  thwart  him,  to  start  a  scheme 
and  manipulate  it,  to  catch  somebody,  to  escape 
somebody ;  it  is  a  perpetual  excitement." 

"  The  machine  in  the  Chamber  appears  to  run 
very  smoothly,"  I  said. 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  public  register  and  indicator.  The 
system  back  of  it  is  comprehensive,  and  appears  to 
be  complicated,  but  it  is  really  very  simple.  Spend 
an  hour  some  day  in  the  office  of  Flamm  and 
Slamm,  and  you  will  see  a  part  of  the  system. 
There  are  always  a  number  of  men  watching  the 
black-board,  figures  on  which  are  changed  every 
minute  by  the  attendants.  Telegrams  are  con 
stantly  arriving  from  every  part  of  the  Union, 
from  all  over  the  continent,  from  all  the  centres  in 
Europe,  which  are  read  by  some  one  connected 
with  the  firm,  and  then  displayed  for  the  guidance 
of  the  watchers  of  the  black-board.  Upon  this 
news  one  or  another  says,  '  I  think  I'll  buy,'  or  '  I 
think  I'll  sell,'  so  and  so.  His  order  is  transmitted 
instantly  to  the  Chamber.  In  two  minutes  the 
result  comes  back  and  appears  upon  the  black 
board." 

" But  where  does  the  news  come  from?" 

"  From  the  men  whose  special  business  it  is  to 
pick  it  up  or  make  it.  They  are  inside  of  politics, 
of  the  railways,  of  the  weather  bureau,  everywhere. 
The  other  day  in  Chicago  I  sat  some  time  in  a 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  95 

broker's  office  with  others  watching  the  market, 
and  dropped  into  conversation  with  a  bright  young 
fellow,  at  whose  right  hand,  across  the  rail,  was  a 
telegraph  operator  at  the  end  of  a  private  wire. 
Soon  a  man  came  in  quietly,  and  whispered  in  the 
ear  of  my  neighbor  and  went  out.  The  young  fel 
low  instantly  wrote  a  despatch  and  handed  it  to 
the  operator,  and  turning  to  me,  said, '  Now  watch 
the  black-board.'  In  an  incredibly  short  space  of 
time  a  fall  in  a  leading  railway  showed  on  the 
black-board.  'What  was  it?'  I  asked.  'Why, 
that  man  was  the  general  freight  manager  of  the 
A.  B.  road.  He  told  me  that  they  were  to  cut 
rates.  I  sent  it  to  New  York  by  a  private  Avire.' 
I  learned  by  furthur  conversation  that  my  young 
gentleman  was  a  Manufacturer  of  News,  and  that 
such  was  his  address  and  intelligence  that  though 
he  was  not  a  member  of  the  broker's  firm,  he  made 
ten  thousand  a  year  in  the  business.  Soon  another 
man  came  in,  whispered  his  news,  and  Avent  aAvay. 
Another  despatch — another  responsive  change  in 
the  figures.  '  That,'  explained  my  companion, 
'  Avas  a  man  connected  Avith  the  weather  bureau. 
He  told  me  that  there  would  be  a  heavy  frost  to 
night  in  the  North Avest.' ': 

"  Do  they  sell  the  Aveather  ?"  I  asked,  very  much 
amused. 

"  Yes,  tAvice ;  once  over  a  priArate'Avire,  and  then 
to  the  public,  after  the  value  of  it  has  been  squeezed 


96  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

out,  in  the  shape  of  predictions.  Oh,  the  weather 
bureau  is  worth  all  the  money  it  costs,  for  business 
purposes.  It  is  a  great  auxiliary." 

Dining  that  evening  with  Henderson  at  his  club, 
I  had  further  opportunity  to  study  a  representa 
tive  man.  lie  was  of  a  good  New  Hampshire  fam 
ily,  exceedingly  respectable  without  being  distin 
guished.  Over  the  chimney-place  in  the  old  farm 
house  hung  a  rusty  Queen  Anne  that  had  been  at 
the  taking  of  Louisburg.  His  grandfather  shoul 
dered  a  musket  at  Bunker  Hill;  his  father,  the 
youngest  son,  had  been  a  judge  as  well  as  a  farmer, 
and  noted  for  his  shrewdness  and  reticence.  Rod 
ney,  inheriting  the  thrift  of  his  ancestors,  had 
pushed  out  from  his  home,  adapting  this  thrift  to 
the  modern  methods  of  turning  it  to  account.  He 
had  brought  also  to  the  city  the  stamina  of  three 
generations  of  plain  living — a  splendid  capital,  by 
which  the  city  is  constantly  reinforced,  and  which 
one  generation  does  not  exhaust,  except  by  the  aid 
of  extreme  dissipation.  "With  sound  health,  good 
ability,  and  fair  education,  he  had  the  cheerful  tem 
perament  which  makes  friends,  and  does  not  allow 
their  misfortunes  to  injure  his  career.  Generous 
by  impulse,  he  would  rather  do  a  favor  than  not, 
and  yet  he  would  be  likely  to  let  nothing  interfere 
with  any  object  he  had  in  view  for  himself.  Inher 
iting  a  conventional  respect  for  religion  and  moral 
ity,  he  was  not  so  bigoted  as  to  rebuke  the  gayety 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  97 

of  a  convivial  company,  nor  so  intractable  as 
to  make  him  an  uncomfortable  associate  in  any 
scheme,  according  to  the  modern  notions  of  busi 
ness,  that  promised  profit.  His  engaging  manner 
made  him  popular,  and  his  good-natured  adroitness 
made  him  successful.  If  his  early  experience  of 
life  caused  him  to  be  cynical,  he  was  not  bitterly 
so ;  his  cynicism  was  of  the  tolerant  sort  that  does 
not  condemn  the  Avorld  and  withdraw  from  it,  but 
courts  it  and  makes  the  most  of  it,  lowering  his 
private  opinion  of  men  in  proportion  as  he  is  suc 
cessful  in  the  game  he  plays  with  them. 

At  this  period  I  could  see  that  he  had  deter 
mined  to  be  successful,  and  that  he  had  not  deter 
mined  to  be  unscrupulous.  He  would  only  drift 
with  the  tide  that  made  for  fortune.  He  enjoyed 
the  world — a  sufficient  reason  why  the  world  should 
like  him.  His  business  morality  was  gauged  by 
what  other  people  do  in  similar  circumstances.  In 
short,  he  was  a  product  of  the  period  since  the  civil 
war  closed,  that  great  upheaval  of  patriotic  feeling 
and  sacrifice,  which  ended  in  so  much  expansion 
and  so  many  opportunities.  If  he  had  remained  in 
!New  Hampshire  he  would  probably  have  been  a 
successful  politician,  successful  not  only  in  keeping 
in  place,  but  in  teaching  younger  aspirants  that 
serving  the  country  is  a  very  good  way  to  the 
attainment  of  luxury  and  the  consideration  that 
money  brings.  But  having  chosen  the  law  as  a 


98  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

stepping-stone  to  the  lobby,  to  speculation,  and  the 
manipulation  of  chances,  he  had  a  poor  opinion  of 
politics  and  of  politicians.  His  success  thus  far, 
though  considerable,  had  not  been  sufficient  to  cre 
ate  for  him  powerful  enemies,  so  that  he  may  be 
said  to  be  admired  by  all  and  feared  by  none.  In 
the  general  opinion  he  was  a  downright  good  fel 
low  and  amazingly  clever. 


VII. 

IN  youth,  as  at  the  opera,  everything  seems  pos 
sible.  Surely  it  is  not  necessary  to  choose  between 
love  and  riches.  One  may  have  both,  and  the  one 
all  the  more  easily  for  having  attained  the  other. 
It  must  be  a  fiction,  of  the  moralists  who  construct 
the  dramas  that  the  god  of  love  and  the  god  of 
money  each  claims  an  undivided  allegiance.  It 
was  in  some  wholly  legendary,  perhaps  spiritual, 
world  that  it  was  necessary  to  renounce  love  to 
gain  the  Rhine  gold.  The  boxes  at  the  Metropoli 
tan  did  not  believe  this.  The  spectators  of  the 
boxes  could  believe  it  still  less.  For  was  not  beau 
ty  there  seen  shining  in  jewels  that  have  a  market 
value,  and  did  not  love  visibly  preside  over  the 
union,  and  make  it  known  that  his  sweetest  favors 
go  with  a  prosperous  world  \ 

And  yet,  is  the  charm  of  life  somewhat  depend 
ing  upon  a  sense  of  its  fleetingness,  of  its  phan- 
tasmagorial  character,  a  note  of  coming  disaster, 
maybe,  in  the  midst  of  its  most  seductive  pageant 
ry,  in  the  whirl  and  glitter  and  hurry  of  it  ?  Is 
there  some  subtle  sense  of  exquisite  satisfaction  in 
snatching  the  sweet  moments  of  life  out  of  the 
very  delirium  of  it,  that  must  soon  end  in  an  awak- 


100  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

ening  to  bankruptcy  of  the  affections,  and  the 
dreadful  loss  of  illusions?  Else  why  do  we  take 
pleasure — a  pleasure  so  deep  that  it  touches  the 
heart  like  melancholy — in  the  common  drama  of 
the  opera  ?  How  gay  and  joyous  is  the  beginning ! 
Mirth,  hilarity,  entrancing  sound,  brilliant  color, 
the  note  of  a  trumpet  calling  to  heroism,  the  be 
seeching  of  the  concordant  strings,  and  the  'soft 
flute  inviting  to  pleasure ;  scenes  placid,  pastoral, 
innocent ;  light  -  hearted  love,  the  dance  on  the 
green,  the  stately  pageant  in  the  sunlit  streets,  the 
court,  the  ball,  the  mad  splendor  of  life.  And  then 
love  becomes  passion,  and  passion  thwarted  hurries 
on  to  sin,  and  sin  lifts  to  the  heights  of  the  im 
mortal,  sweetly  smiling  gods,  and  plunges  to  the 
depths  of  despair.  In  vain  the  orchestra,  the  in 
evitable  accompaniment  of  life,  warns  and  pleads 
and  admonishes;  calm  has  gone,  and  gayety  has 
gone ;  there  is  no  sweetness  now  but  in  the  wild- 
ness  of  surrender  and  of  sacrifice.  How  sad  are 
the  remembered  strains  that  aforetime  were  incen 
tives  to  love  and  promises  of  happiness !  Gloom 
settles  upon  the  scene ;  Mephisto,  the  only  radiant 
one,  flits  across  it,  and  mocks  the  poor  broken 
hearted  girl  clinging  to  the  church  door.  There  is 
a  dungeon,  the  chanting  of  the  procession  of  ton 
sured  priests,  the  passing-bell.  Seldom  appears  the 
golden  bridge  over  which  the  baffled  and  tired  pass 
into  Valhalla. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  101 

Do  we  like  this  because  it  is  life,  or  because 
there  is  a  certain  satisfaction  in  seeing  the  tragedy 
which  impends  over  all,  pervades  the  atmosphere, 
as  it  were,  and  adds  something  of  zest  to  the  mild 
est  enjoyment  ?  Should  we  go  away  from  the 
mimic  stage  any  better  and  stronger  if  the  drama 
began  in  the  dungeon  and  ended  on  the  green 
sward,  with  innocent  love  and  resplendent  beauty 
in  possession  of  the  Rhine  gold  ? 

How  simple,  after  all,  was  the  created  world  on 
the  stage  to  the  real  world  in  the  auditorium,  with 
its  thousand  complexities  and  dramatic  situations ! 
and  if  the  little  knot  of  players  of  parts  for  an 
hour  could  have  had  leisure  to  be  spectators  of  the 
audience,  what  a  deeper  revelation  of  life  would 
they  not  have  seen !  For  the  world  has  never  as 
sembled  such  an  epitome  of  itself,  fti  its  passion  for 
pleasure  and  its  passion  for  display,  as  in  the  mod 
ern  opera,  with  its  ranks  and  tiers  of  votaries  from 
the  pit  to  the  dome.  I  fancy  that  even  Margaret, 
whose  love  for  music  was  genuine,  was  almost  as 
much  fascinated  by  the  greater  spectacle  as  by  the 
less. 

It  was  a  crowded  night,  for  the  opera  was  one 
that  appealed  to  the  senses  and  stimulated  them 
to  activity,  and  left  the  mind  free  to  pursue  its 
own  schemes ;  in  a  word,  orchestra  and  the  scenes 
formed  a  sort  of  accompaniment  and  interpreter 
to  the  private  dramas  in  the  boxes.  The  opera 


102  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

was  made  for  society,  and  not  society  for  the  op 
era.  We  occupied  a  box  in  the  second  tier — the 
Morgans,  Margaret,  and  my  wife.  Morgan  said 
that  the  glasses  were  raised  to  us  from  the  parquet 
and  levelled  at  us  from  the  loges  because  we  were 
a  country  party,  but  he  well  enough  knew  whose 
fresh  beauty  and  enthusiastic  young  face  it  was 
that  drew  the  fire  when  the  curtain  fell  on  the 
first  act,  and  there  was  for  a  moment  a  little  lull 
in  the  hum  of  conversation. 

"I  had  heard,"  Morgan  was  saying,  "that  the 
opera  was  not  acclimated  in  New  York ;  but  it  is 
nearly  so.  The  audience  do  not  jabber  so  loud  nor 
so  incessantly  as  at  San  Carlo,  and  they  do  not 
hum  the  airs  with  the  singers — 

"  Perhaps,"  said  my  wife,  "  that  is  because  they 
do  not  know  th'e  airs." 

" — But  they  are  getting  on  in  cultivation,  and 
learning  how  to  assert  the  social  side  of  the  opera, 
which  is  not  to  be  seriously  interfered  with  by  the 
music  on  the  stage." 

"But  the  music,  the  scenery,  were  never  before 
so  good,"  I  replied  to  these  cynical  observations. 

"That  is  true.  And  the  social  side  has  risen 
with  it.  Do  you  know  what  an  impudent  thing 
the  managers  did  the  other  night  in  protesting 
against  the  raising  of  the  lights  by  which  the 
house  was  made  brilliant  and  the  cheap  illusions 
of  the  stage  were  destroyed  ?  They  wanted  to 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  103 

make  the  house  positively  gloomy  for  the  sake  of 
a  little  artificial  moonlight  on  the  painted  to  wers 
and  the  canvas  lakes." 

As  the  world  goes,  the  scene  was  brilliant,  of 
course  with  republican  simplicity.  The  imagina 
tion  was  helped  by  no  titled  names  any  more  than 
the  eye  was  by  the  insignia  of  rank,  but  there  was 
a  certain  glow  of  feeling,  as  the  glass  swept  the 
circle,  to  know  that  there  were  ten  millions  in  this 
box,  and  twenty  in  the  next,  and  fifty  in  the  next, 
attested  well  enough  by  the  flash  of  jewels  and 
the  splendor  of  attire,  and  one  might  indulge  a 
genuine  pride  in  the  prosperity  of  the  republic. 
As  for  beauty,  the  world,  surely,  in  this  later  time, 
had  flowered  here  —  flowered  with  something  of 
Aspasia's  grace  and  something  of  the  haughty 
coldness  of  Agrippina.  And  yet  it  was  American. 
Here  and  there  in  the  boxes  was  a  thorough-bred 
portrait  by  Copely  —  the  long  shapely  neck,  the 
the  sloping  shoulders,  the  drooping  eyelids,  even  to 
the  gown  in  which  the  great-grandmother  danced 
with  the  French  offcers. 

"  Who  is  that  lovely  creature  ?"  asked  Margaret, 
indicating  a  box  opposite. 

I  did  not  know.  There  were  two  ladies,  and  be 
hind  them  I  had  no  difficulty  in  making  out  Hen 
derson  and — Margaret  evidently  had  not  seen  him 
—Mr.  Lyon.  Almost  at  the  same  moment  Hen 
derson  recognized  me,  and  signalled  for  me  to  come 


104:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

to  his  box.  As  I  rose  to  do  so,  Mrs.  Morgan  ex 
claimed  :  "  Why,  there  is  Mr.  Lyon  !  Do  tell  him 
we  are  here."  I  saw  Margaret's  color  rise,  but  she 
did  not  speak. 

I  was  presented  to  Mrs.  Eschelle  and  her  daugh 
ter  ;  in  the  latter  I  recognized  the  beauty  who  had 
flashed  by  us  in  the  Park.  The  elder  lady  inclined 
to  stoutness,  and  her  too  youthful  apparel  could 
not  mislead  one  as  to  the  length  of  her  pilgrimage 
in  this  world,  nor  soften  the  hard  lines  of  her 
worldly  face — lines  acquired,  one  could  see,  by  a 
social  struggle,  and  not  drawn  there  by  an  innate 
patrician  insolence. 

"  We  are  glad  to  see  a  friend  of  Mr.  Hender 
son's,"  she  said,  "  and  of  Mr.  Lyon's  also.  Mr.  Lyon 
has  told  us  much  of  your  charming  country  home. 
Who  is  that  pretty  girl  in  your  box,  Mr.  Fair- 
child?" 

Miss  Eschelle  had  her  glass  pointed  at  Margaret 
as  I  ga\7e  the  desired  information. 

"How  innocent!"  she  murmured.  "And  she's 
quite  in  the  style — isn't  she,  Mr.  Lyon  ?"  she  asked, 
turning  about,  her  sweet  mobile  face  quite  the  pict 
ure  of  what  she  was  describing.  "  We  are  all  in 
nocent  in  these  days." 

"  It  is  a  very  good  style,"  I  said. 

"  Isn't  it  becoming  ?"  asked  the  girl,  making  her 
dark  eyes  at  once  merry  and  demure. 

Mr.  Lyon  was  looking  intently  at  the  opposite 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  105 

box,  and  a  slight  shade  came  over  his  line  face. 
u Ah,  I  see!" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Miss  Eschelle,"  he  said,  after 
a  second,  "  I  hardly  know  which  to  admire  most, 
the  beauty,  or  the  wit,  or  the  innocence  of  the 
American  women." 

"  There  is  nothing  so  confusing,  though,  as  the 
country  innocence,"  the  girl  said,  with  the  most 
natural  air;  "it  never  knows  where  to  stop." 

"  You  are  too  absurd,  Carmen,"  her  mother  in 
terposed  ;  "  as  if  the  town  girl  did  !" 

"Well,  mamma,  there  is  authority  for  saying 
that  there  is  a  time  for  everything,  only  one  must 
be  in  the  fashion,  you  know." 

Mr.  Lyon  looked  a  little  dubious  at  this  turn  of 
the  talk ;  Mr.  Henderson  was  as  evidently  amused 
at  the  girl's  acting.  I  said  I  was  glad  to  see  that 
goodness  was  in  fashion. 

"  Oh,  it  often  is.  You  know  we  were  promised 
a  knowledge  of  good  as  well  as  evil.  It  depends 
upon  the  point  of  view.  I  fancy,  now,  that  Mr. 
Henderson  tolerates  the  good — that  is  the  reason 
we  get  on  so  well  together ;  and  Mr.  Lyon  tolerates 
the  evil — that's  the  reason  he  likes  New  York.  I 
have  almost  promised  him  that  I  \vill  have  a  mis 
sion  school." 

The  girl  looked  quite  capable  of  it,  or  of  any 
other  form  of  devotion.  Notwithstanding  her  per 
sistent  banter,  she  had  a  most  inviting  innocence 


106  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

of  manner,  almost  an  ingenuousness,  that  well  be 
came  her  exquisite  beauty.  And  but  for  a  tenta 
tive  daring  in  her  talk,  as  if  the  gentle  creature 
were  experimenting  as  to  how  far  one  could  safely 
go,  her  innocence  might  have  seemed  that  of  igno- 
rance.J 

It  came  out  in  the  talk  that  Mr.  Lyon  had  been 
in  "Washington  for  a  week,  and  would  return  there 
later  on. 

"  We  had  a  claim  on  him,"  said  Mrs.  Eschelle, "  for 
his  kindness  to  us  in  London,  and  we  are  trying 
to  convince  him  that  New  York  is  the  real  capital." 

"  Unfortunately,"  added  Miss  Eschelle,  looking 
up  in  Mr.  Lyon's  face,  "  he  visited  Brandon  iirst, 
and  you  seem  to  have  bewitched  him  with  your 
simple  country  ways.  I  can  get  him  to  talk  of 
nothing  else." 

"  You  mean  to  say,"  Mr.  Lyon  replied,  with  the 
air  of  retorting,  "  that  you  have  asked  me  about 
nothing  else." 

"  Oh,  you  know  we  felt  a  little  responsible  for 
you ;  and  there  is  no  place  so  dangerous  as  the 
country.  Now  here  you  are  protected — we  put  all 
the  wickedness  on  the  stage,  and  learn  to  recognize 
and — shun  it." 

"  It  may  be  wicked,"  said  her  mother,  "  but  it  is 
dull.  Don't  you  find  it  so,  Mr.  Henderson  ?  I  am 
passionately  fond  of  Wagner,  but  it  is  too  noisy  for 
anything  to-night." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  107 

"  I  notice,  dear,"  the  dutiful  daughter  replied  for 
all  of  us,  "  that  you  have  to  raise  your  voice.  But 
there  is  the  ballet.  Let  us  all  listen  now." 

Mr.  Lyon  excused  himself  from  going  with  me, 
saying  that  he  would  call  at  our  hotel,  and  I  took 
Henderson.  "  I  shall  count  the  minutes  you  are 
going  to  lose,"  the  girl  said  as  we  went  out — to  our 
box.  The  lobbies  in  the  interact  were  thronged 
with  men  —  for  the  most  part  the  young  specu 
lators  of  the  Chamber  turned  into  loungers  in 
the  foyer  —  knowing,  alert,  attitudinizing  in  the 
extreme  of  the  mode,  unable  even  in  this  hour  to 
give  beauty  the  preference  to  business,  well  know 
ing,  perhaps,  that  beauty  itself  in  these  days  has  a 
fine  eye  for  business. 

I  liked  Henderson  better  in  our  box  than  in  his 
own.  Was  it  because  the  atmosphere  was  more 
natural  and  genuine  ?  Or  was  it  Margaret's  trans 
parent  nature,  her  sincere  enjoyment  of  the  scene, 
her  evident  pleasure  in  the  music,  the  color,  the 
gayety  of  the  house,  that  made  him  drop  the  slight 
cynical  air  of  the  world  which  had  fitted  him  so 
admirably  a  moment  before.  He  already  knew  my 
wife  and  the  Morgans,  and,  after  the  greetings 
were  made,  he  took  a  seat  by  Margaret,  quite  con 
tent  while  the  act  was  going  on  to  watch  its  prog 
ress  in  the  play  of  her  responsive  features.  How 
quickly  she  felt,  how  the  frown  followed  the  smile, 
how  she  seemed  to  weigh  and  try  to  apprehend  the 


108  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

meaning  of  what  went  on — how  her  every  sense 
enjoyed  life ! 

"  It  is  absurd,"  she  said,  turning  her  bright  face 
to  him.  when  the  curtain  dropped,  "  to  be  so  inter 
ested  in  fictitious  trouble." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure  that  it  is,"  he  replied,  in  her 
own  tone ;  "the  opera  is  a  sort  of  pulpit,  and  not 
seldom  preaches  an  awful  sermon  —  more  plainly 
than  the  preacher  dares  to  make  it." 

" But  not  in  nomine  Dei" 

"  !Nb.  But  who  can  say  what  is  most  effective  ? 
I  often  wonder,  as  I  watch  the  congregations  com 
ing  from  the  churches  on  the  Avenue,  if  they  are 
any  more  solemnized  than  the  audiences  that  pour 
out  of  this  house.  I  confess  that  I  cannot  shake 
off  <  Lohengrin '  in  a  good  while  after  I  hear  it." 

"And  so  you  think  the  theatres  have  a  moral 
influence  ?" 

"Honestly"  —and  I  heard  his  good-natured 
laugh— "I  couldn't  swear  to  that.  But  then  we 
don't  know  what  New  York  might  be  without 
them." 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Margaret,  "  reflectively, 
"that  iny  own  good  impulses,  such  as  I  have,  are 
excited  by  anything  I  see  on  the  stage ;  perhaps  I 
am  more  tolerant,  and  maybe  toleration  is  not 
good.  I  wonder  if  I  should  grow  worldly,  seeing 
more  of  it  ?" 

"  Perhaps  it  is  not  the  stage  so  much  as  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  109 

house,"  Henderson  replied,  beginning  to  read  the 
girl's  mind. 

"  Yes,  it  would  be  different  if  one  came  alone 
and  saw  the  play,  unconscious  of  the  house,  as  if  it 
were  a  picture.  I  think  it  is  the  house  that  dis 
turbs  one,  makes  one  restless  and  discontented." 

"  I  never  analyzed  my  emotions,"  said  Hender 
son,  "  but  when  I  Avas  a  boy  and  came  to  the  the 
atre  I  well  remember  that  it  made  me  ambitious  ; 
every  sort  of  thing  seemed  possible  of  attainment 
in  the  excitement  of  the  crowded  house,  the  music, 
the  lights,  the  easy  successes  on  the  stage  ;  nothing 
else  is  more  stimulating  to  a  lad ;  nothing  else 
makes  the  world  more  attractive." 

"And  does  it  continue  to  have  the  same  effect, 
Mr.  Henderson  ?" 

"  Hardly,"  and  he  smiled  ;  "  the  illusion  goes, 
and  the  stage  is  about  as  real  as  the  house --usually 
less  interesting.  It  can  hardly  compete  with  the 
comedy  in  the  boxes." 

"Perhaps  it  is  lack  of  experience,  but  I  like  the 
play  for  itself." 

"  Oh  yes ;  desire  for  the  dramatic  is  natural. 
People  will  have  it  somehow.  In  the  country  vil 
lage  where  there  are  no  theatres  the  people  make 
dramas  out  of  each  others  lives ;  the  most  trivial 
incidents  are  magnified  and  talked  about— drama 
tized,  in  short." 

"  You  mean  gossiped  about  ?" 


110  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  Well,  you  may  call  it  gossip ;  nothing  can  be 
concealed ;  everybody  knows  about  everybody  else ; 
there  is  no  privacy ;  everything  is  used  to  create 
that  illusory  spectacle  which  the  stage  tries  to 
give.  I  think  that  in  the  country  village  a  good 
theatre  would  be  a  wholesome  influence,  satisfy  a 
natural  appetite  indicated  by  the  inquisition  into 
the  affairs  of  neighbors,  and  by  the  petty  scan 
dal." 

"  We  are  on  the  way  to  it,"  said  Mr.  Morgan, 
who  sat  behind  them ;  "  Ave  have  theatricals  in  the 
church  parlors,  which  may  grow  into  a  nineteenth- 
century  substitute  for  the  miracle  -  plays.  You 
mustn't,  Margaret,  let  Mr.  Henderson  prejudice  you 
against  the  country." 

"  No,  said  the  latter,  quickly ;  "  I  was  only  try 
ing  to  defend  the  city.  We  country  people  always 
do  that.  We  must  base  our  theatrical  life  on 
something  in  nature." 

"  What  is  the  difference,  Mr.  Henderson,"  asked 
Margaret,  "  between  the  gossip  in  the  boxes  and 
the  country  gossip  you  spoke  of  ?" 

"  In  toleration  mainly,  and  lack  of  exact  knowl 
edge.  It  is  here  rather  cynical  parsiflage,  not  con 
centrated  public  opinion." 

"  I  don't  follow  }Tou,"  said  Morgan.  "  It  seems 
to  me  that  in  the  city  you've  got  gossip  plus  the 
stage." 

"That  is  to  say,  we  have  the  world." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  Ill 

"  I  don't  like  to  believe  that,"  said  Margaret,  seri 
ously — "  your  definition  of  the  world." 

"  You  make  me  see  that  it  was  a  poor  jest,"  he 
said,  rising  to  go.  "  By-the-way,  we  have  a  friend 
of  yours  in  our  box  to-night — a  young  Englishman." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Lyon.  We  were  all  delighted  with 
him.  Such  a  transparent,  genuine  nature  !" 

"  Tell  him,"  said  my  wife,  "  that  we  should  be 
happy  to  see  him  at  our  hotel." 

When  Henderson  came  back  to  his  box  Carmen 
did  not  look  up,  but  she  said,  indifferently  :  "  What, 
so  soon  ?  But  your  absence  has  made  one  person 
thoroughly  miserable.  Mr.  Lyon  has  not  taken  his 
eyes  off  you.  I  never  saw  such  an  international 
attachment." 

"  What  more  could  I  do  for  Miss  Eschelle  than 
to  leave  her  in  such  company  ?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Lyon.  "  Miss  Eschelle 
must  believe  that  I  thoroughly  appreciate  Mr. 
Henderson's  self-sacrifice.  If  I  occasionally  looked 
over  where  he  was,  I  assure  you  it  was  in  pity." 

"You  are  both  altogether  too  self-sacrificing," 
the  beauty  replied,  turning  to  Henderson  a  look 
that  was  sweetly  forgiving.  "  They  who  sin  much 
shall  be  forgiven  much,  you  know." 

"  That  leaves  me,"  Mr.  Lyon  answered,  with  a 
laugh,  "  as  you  say  over  here,  out  in  the  cold,  for  I 
have  passed  a  too  happy  evening  to  feel  like  a 
transgressor." 


112  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"The  sins  of  omission  are  the  worst  sort,"  she 
retorted. 

"You  see  what  you  must  do  to  be  forgiven," 
Henderson  said  to  Lyon,  with  that  good-natured 
smile  that  was  so  potent  to  smooth  away  sharp 
ness. 

"  I  fear  I  can  never  do  enough  to  qualify  my 
self."  And  he  also  laughed. 

"You  never  will,"  Carmen  answered,  but  she 
accompanied  the  doubt  with  a  witching  smile  that 
denied  it. 

"  What  is  all  this  about  forgiveness?"  asked  Mrs. 
Eschelle,  turning  to  them  from  regarding  the  stage. 

"Oh,  we  were  having  an  experience  meeting  be 
hind  your  back,  mamma,  only  Mr.  Henderson  won't 
tell  his  experience." 

"Miss  Eschelle  is  in  such  a  forgiving  humor  to 
night  that  she  absolves  before  any  one  has  a 
chance  to  confess,"  he  replied. 

"  Don't  you  think  I  am  always  so,  Mr.  Lyon  2" 

Mr.  Lyon  bowed.  "I  think  that  an  opera -box 
with  Miss  Eschelle  is  the  easiest  confessional  in  the 
world." 

"  That's  something  like  a  compliment.  You 
see "  (to  Henderson)  "  how  much  you  Americans 
have  to  learn." 

"  Will  you  be  my  teacher  ?" 

"  Or  your  pupil,"  the  girl  said,  in  a  low  voice, 
standing  near  him  as  she  rose. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  113 

The  play  was  over.  In  the  robing  and  descend 
ing  through  the  corridors  there  were  the  usual 
chatter,  meaning  looks,  confidential  asides.  It  is 
always  at  the  last  moment,  in  the  hurry,  as  in  a 
postscript,  that  woman  says  what  she  means,  or 
what  for  the  moment  she  wishes  to  be  thought  to 
mean.  In  the  crowd  on  the  main  stair-way  the 
two  parties  saw  each  other  at  a  distance,  but  with 
out  speaking. 

"Is  it  true  that  Lyon  is  epris  there?"  Carmen 
whispered  to  Henderson  when  she  had  scanned 
and  thoroughly  inventoried  Margaret. 

"  You  know  as  much  as  I  do." 

"  Well,  you  did  stay  a  long  time,"  she  said,  in  a 
lower  tone. 

As  Margaret's  party  waited  for  their  carriage 
she  saw  Mrs.  Eschelle  and  her  daughter  enter  a 
shining  coach,  with  footman  and  coachman  in 
livery.  Henderson  stood  raising  his  hat.  A  little 
white  hand  was  shaken  to  him  from  the  window, 
and  a  sweet,  innocent  face  leaned  forward — a  face 
with  dark  eyes  and  golden  hair,  lit  up  with  a  radi 
ant  smile.  That  face  for  the  moment  was  New 
York  to  Margaret,  and  New  York  seemed  a  vain 
show. 

Carmen  threw  herself  back  in  her  seat  as  if 
weary.  Mrs.  Eschelle  sat  bolt-upright. 

"  What  in  the  world,  child,  made  you  go  on  so 
to-night  ?" 
8 


114  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  What  made  you  snub  Mr.  Lyon  so  often  ?" 
"Did  I?  He  won't  mind  much.  Didn't  you 
see,  mother,  that  he  was  distrait  the  moment  he 
espied  that  girl?  I'm  not  going  to  waste  my 
time.  I  know  the  signs.  No  fisheries  imbroglio 
for  me,  thank  you." 

"  Fish  ?  Who  said  anything  about  fish  ?" 
"  Oh,  the  international  business.  Ask  Mr.  Hen 
derson  to  explain  it.  The  English  want  to  fish  in 
our  waters,  I  believe.  I  think  Mr.  Lyon  has  had  a 
nibble  from  a  fresh -water  fish.  Perhaps  it's  the 
other  way,  and  he's  hooked.  There  be  fishers  of 
men,  you  know,  mother." 

"  You  are  a  strange  child,  Carmen.  I  hope  you 
will  be  civil  to  both  of  them."  And  they  rode  on 
in  silence. 


VIII. 

IN  real  life  the  opera  or  the  theatre  is  only  the 
prologue  to  the  evening.  Our  little  party  supped 
at  Delgardo's.  The  play  then  begins.  New  York 
is  quite  awake  by  that  time,  and  ready  to  amuse 
itself.  After  the  public  duty,  the  public  attitudi 
nizing,  after  assisting  at  the  artificial  comedy  and 
tragedy  which  imitate  life  under  a  mask,  and  sug 
gest  without  satisfying,  comes  the  actual  experi 
ence.  My  gentle  girl — God  bless  your  sweet  face 
and  pure  heart ! — who  looked  down  from  the  sky- 
parlor  at  the  Metropolitan  upon  the  legendary 
splendor  of  the  stage,  and  the  alluring  beauty  and 
wealth  of  the  boxes,  and  went  home  to  create  in 
dreams  the  dearest  romance  in  a  maiden's  life,  you 
did  not  know  that  for  many  the  romance  of  the 
night  just  began  when  the  curtain  fell. 

The  streets  were  as  light  as  day.  At  no  other 
hour  were  the  pavements  so  thronged,  was  there 
such  a  crush  of  carriages,  such  a  blockade  of  cars, 
such  running  and  shouting,  greetings  and  deco 
rous  laughter,  such  a  swirl  of  pleasurable  excite 
ment.  Never  were  the  fashionable  cafes  and  res 
taurants  so  crowded  and  brilliant.  It  is  not  a 


116  A  Little  Journey  in  the  V? oriel. 

carnival  time ;  it  is  just  the  flow  and  ebb  of  a 
night's  pleasure,  an  electric  night  which  has  all  of 
the  morning  except  its  peace,  a  night  of  the  gayest 
opportunity  and  unlimited  possibility. 

At  each  little  table  was  a  drama  in  progress, 
light  or  serious — all  the  more  serious  for  being 
light  at  the  moment  and  unconsidered.  Morgan, 
who  was  so  well  informed  in  the  gossip  of  society 
and  so  little  involved  in  it — some  men  have  this 
faculty,  which  makes  them  much  more  entertain 
ing  than  the  daily  newspaper — knew  the  histories 
of  half  the  people  in  the  room.  There  were  an 
Italian  marquis  and  his  wife  supping  together  like 
lovers,  so  strong  is  the  force  of  habit  that  makes 
this  public  life  necessary  even  when  the  domestic 
life  is  established.  There  is  a  man  who  shot  him 
self  rather  seriously  on  the  door-steps  .of  the  beauty 
who  rejected  him,  and  in  a  year  married  the  hand 
some  and  more  wealthy  woman  who  sits  opposite 
him  in  that  convivial  party.  There  is  a  Russian 
princess,  a  fair  woman  with  cool  observant  eyes, 
making  herself  agreeable  to  a  mixed  company  in 
three  languages.  In  this  brilliant  light  is  it  not 
wonderful  how  dazzlingly  beautiful  the  women  are 
— brunettes  in  yellow  and  diamonds,  blondes  in 
elaborately  simple  toilets,  with  only  a  bunch  of 
roses  for  ornament,  in  the  flush  of  the  midnight 
hour,  in  a  radiant  glow  that  even  the  excitement 
and  the  lifted  glass  cannot  heighten  ?  That  pretty 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  117 

girl  yonder — is  she  wife  or  widow  ?—  slight  and 
fresh  and  fair,  they  say  has  an  ambition  to  extend 
her  notoriety  by  going  upon  the  stage ;  the  young 
lady  with  her,  who  does  not  seem  to  fear  a  public 
place,  may  be  helping  her  on  the  road.  The  two 
young  gentlemen,  their  attendants,  have  the  air  of 
taking  life  more  seriously  than  the  girls,  but  regard 
with  respectful  interest  the  mounting  vivacity  of 
their  companions,  which  rises  and  sparkles  like  the 
bubbles  in  the  slender  glasses  which  they  raise  to 
their  lips  with  the  dainty  grace  of  practice.  The 
staid  family  parties  who  are  supping  at  adjoining 
tables  notice  this  group  with  curiosity,  and  express 
their  opinion  by  elevated  eyebrows. 

Margaret  leaned  back  in  her  chair  and  regarded 
the  whole  in  a  musing  frame  of  mind.  I  think  she 
apprehended  nothing  of  it  except  the  light,  the 
color,  the  beauty,  the  movement  of  gayety.  For 
her  the  notes  of  the  orchestra  sounded  through  it 
all — the  voices  of  the  singers,  the  hum  of  the  house ; 
it  was  all  a  spectacle  and  a  play.  'Why  should  she 
not  enjoy  it  ?  There  was  something  in  the  nature 
of  the  girl  that  responded  to  this  form  of  pleasure 
—the  legitimate  pleasure  the  senses  take  in  being 
gratified.  "  It  is  so  different,"  she  said  to  me, 
"  from  the  pleasure  one  has  in  an  evening  by  the 
fire.  Do  you  know,  even  Mr.  Morgan  seems  world 
ly  here." 

It  was  a  deeper  matter  than  she  thought,  this 


118  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

about  worldliness,  which  had  been  raised  in  Mar 
garet's  mind.  Have  we  all  double  natures,  and  do 
we  simply  conform  to  whatever  surrounds  us  ?  Is 
there  any  difference  in  kind  between  the  country 
worldliness  and  the  city  worldliness?  I  do  not 
suppose  that  Margaret  formulated  any  of  these 
ideas  in  words.  Her  knowledge  of  the  city  had 
hitherto  been  superficial.  It  was  a  place  for  shop 
ping,  for  a  day  in  a  picture  exhibition,  for  an  even 
ing  in  the  theatre,  no  more  a  part  of  her  existence 
than  a  novel  or  a  book  of  travels :  of  the  life  of  the 
town  she  knew  nothing.  That  night  in  her  room 
she  became  aware  for  the  first  time  of  another 
world,  restless,  fascinating,  striving,  full  of  oppor 
tunities.  What  must  London  be  ? 

If  we  could  only  note  the  first  coming  into  the 
mind  of  a  thought  that  changes  life  and  re-forms 
character — supposing  that  every  act  and  every  new 
departure  has  this  subtle  beginning — we  might  be 
less  the  sport  of  circumstances  than  we  seem  to  be. 
Unnoted,  the  desire  so  swiftly  follows  the  thought 
and  juggles  with  the  will. 

The  next  day  Mr.  Henderson  left  his  card  and  a 
basket  of  roses.  Mr.  Lyon  called.  It  was  a  con 
strained  visit.  Margaret  was  cordially  civil,  and  I 
fancied  that  Mr.  Lyon  would  have  been  more  con 
tent  if  she  had  been  less  so.  If  he  were  a  lover, 
there  was  little  to  please  him  in  the  exchange  of 
the  commonplaces  of  the  day. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  119 

"  Yes,"  he  was  saying  to  my  wife,  "  perhaps  I 
shall  have  to  change  my  mind  about  the  simplicity 
of  your  American  life.  It  is  much  the  same  in 
New  York  and  London.  It  is  only  a  question  of 
more  or  less  sophistication." 

"  Mr.  Henderson  tells  us,"  said  my  wife,  "  that 
you  knew  the  Eschelles  in  London." 

"  Yes.  Miss  Eschelle  almost  had  a  career  there 
last  season." 

"  Why  almost  2" 

"  "Well — you  will  pardon  me — one  needs  for  suc 
cess  in  these  days  to  be  not  only  very  clever,  but 
equally  daring.  It  is  every  day  more  difficult  to 
make  a  sensation." 

"  I  thought  her,  across  the  house,"  Margaret  said, 
"  very  pretty  and  attractive.  I  did  not  know  you 
were  so  satirical,  Mr.  Lyon.  Do  you  mean  that 
one  must  be  more  daring,  as  you  call  it,  in  London 
than  in  New  York  ?" 

"  I  hope  it  will  not  hurt  your  national  pride,  Miss 
Debree,  if  I  say  that  there  is  always  the  greater 
competition  in  the  larger  market." 

"  Oh,  my  pride,"  Margaret  answered,  "  does  not 
lie  in  that  direction." 

"  And  to  do  her  justice,  I  don't  think  Miss  Es- 
chelle's  does  either.  She  appears  to  be  more  inter 
ested  now  in  New  York  than  in  London." 

He  laughed  as  he  said  this,  and  Margaret  laughed 
also,  and  then  stopped  suddenly,  thinking  of  the 


120  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

roses  that  came  that  morning.  Could  she  be  com 
paring  the  Londoner  with  the  handsome  American 
Avho  sat  by  her  side  at  the  opera  last  night  ?  She 
was  half  annoyed  with  herself  at  the  thought. 

"  And  are  not  you  also  interested  in  New  York, 
Mr.  Lyon  ?"  my  wife  asked. 

"  Yes,  moderately  so,  if  you  will  permit  me  to 
say  it."  It  was  an  effort  on  his  part  to  keep  up 
the  conversation,  Margaret  was  so  wholly  unre 
sponsive ;  and  afterwards,  knowing  ho\v  affairs 
stood  with  them,  I  could  understand  his  well-bred 
misery.  The  hardest  thing  in  the  world  is  to  suffer 
decorously  and  make  no  sign  in  the  midst  of  a 
society  which  insists  on  stoicism,  no  matter  how 
badly  one  is  hurt.  The  Society  for  First  Aid  to 
the  Injured  hardens  its  heart  in  these  cases.  "  I 
jhave  never  seen  another  place,"  he  continued, 
''where  the  women  are  so  busy  in  improving  them 
selves.  Societies,  clubs,  parlor  lectures,  readings, 
recitations,  musicals,  classes  —  it  fatigues  one  to 
keep  in  sight  of  them.  Every  afternoon,  every 
evening,  something.  I  doubt  if  men  are  capable 
of  such  incessant  energy,  Mrs.  Fairchild." 

"  And  you  find  they  have  no  time  to  bs  agree 
able  ?" 

"  Quite  the  contrary.  There  is  nothing  they  are 
not  interesting  in,  nothing  about  which  they  can 
not  talk,  and  talk  intensely.  They  absorb  every 
thing,  and  have  the  gift  of  acquiring  intelligence 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  121 

without,  as  one  of  them  told  me,  having  to  waste 
time  in  reading.  Yes,  it  is  a  most  interesting 
city." 

The  coming  in  of  Mr.  Morgan  gave  another  turn 
to  the  talk.  He  had  been  to  see  a  rural  American 
play,  an  exhibition  of  country  life  and  character, 
constructed  in  absolute  disregard  of  any  traditions 
of  the  stage. 

"  I  don't  suppose,"  Mr.  Morgan  said,  "  a  foreigner 
would  understand  it ;  it  would  be  impossible  in 
Paris,  incomprehensible  in  London." 

"  Yes,  I  saw  it,"  said  Mr.  Lyon,  thus  appealed  to. 
"  It  was  very  odd,  and  seemed  to  amuse  the  au 
dience  immensely.  I  suppose  one  must  be  familiar 
with  American  farm  life  to  see  the  points  of  it.  I 
confess  that  while  I  sat  there,  in  an  audience  so 
keenly  in  sympathy  with  the  play — almost  a  part 
of  it,  one  might  say — I  doubted  if  I  understood 
your  people  as  well  as  I  thought  I  did  when  I  had 
been  here  a  week  only.  Perhaps  this  is  the  begin 
ning  of  an  American  drama." 

"  Some  people  say  that  it  is." 

"  But  it  is  so  local !" 

"Anything  that  is  true  must  be  true  to  local 
conditions,  to  begin  with.  The  only  question  is,  is 
it  true  to  human  nature?  What  puzzled  me  in 
this  American  play  was  its  raising  the  old  ques 
tion  of  nature  and  art.  You've  seen  Coquelin  ? 
"Well,  that  is  acting,  as  artificial  as  a  sonnet,  the 


122  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

perfection  of  training,  skill  in  an  art.  You  never 
doubt  that  he  is  performing  in  a  play  for  the  en 
tertainment  of  an  audience.  You  have  the  same 
enjoyment  of  it  that  you  have  of  a  picture — a  pict 
ure,  I  mean,  full  of  character  and  sentiment,  not  a 
photograph.  But  I  don't  think  of  Denman  Thomp 
son  as  an  actor  trained  to  perfection  in  a  dramatic 
school,  but  as  a  Xew  Hampshire  farmer.  I  don't 
admire  his  skill ;  I  admire  him.  There  is  plenty 
that  is  artificial,  vulgarly  conventional,  in  his  play, 
plenty  of  imitation  of  the  rustic  that  shows  it  is 
imitation,  but  he  is  the  natural  man.  If  he  is  a 
stage  illusion,  he  does  not  seem  so  to  me." 

"  Probably  to  an  American  audience  only  he 
does  not,"  Mr.  Lyon  remarked. 

"  Well,  that  is  getting  to  be  a  tolerably  large  au 
dience." 

"I  doubt  if  you  will  change  the  laws  of  art," 
said  Mr.  Lyon,  rising  to  go. 

"  We  shall  hope  to  see  you  again  at  our  house," 
my  wife  said. 

u  You  are  very  good.  I  should  like  it ;  but  my 
time  is  running  out." 

"  If  you  cannot  come,  you  may  leave  your  adieus 
with  Miss  Debree,  who  is  staying  some  time  in  the 
city,"  my  wife  said,  evidently  to  Margaret's  annoy 
ance.  But  she  could  do  no  less  than  give  him  her 
city  address,  though  the  information  was  not  ac 
companied  by  any  invitation  in  her  manner. 


•  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  123 

Margaret  was  to  stay  some  time  with  two  maid 
en  ladies,  old  friends  of  her  mother,  the  Misses  Ar- 
buser.  The  Arbusers  were  people  of  consequence 
in  their  day,  with  a  certain  social  prestige ;  in  fact, 
the  excellent  ladies  were  two  generations  removed 
from  successful  mercantile  life,  which  in  the  remote 
perspective  took  on  an  old -family  solidity.  No 
where  else  in  the  city  could  Margaret  have  come 
closer  in  contact  with  a  certain  phase  of  New  York 
life  in  which  women  are  the  chief  actors — a  phase 
which  may  be  a  transition,  and  may  be  only  a 
craze.  It  is  not  so  much  a  condescension  of  society 
to  literature  as  it  is  a  discovery  that  literature  and 
art,  in  the  persons  of  those  who  produce  both,  may 
be  sources  of  amusement,  or  perhaps,  to  be  just,  of 
the  enlargement  of  the  horizon  and  the  improve 
ment  of  the  mind.  The  society  mind  was  never 
before  so  hospitable  to  new  ideas  and  new  sensa 
tions.  Charities,  boards  of  managers,  missions,  hos 
pitals,  news-rooms,  and  lodging-houses  for  the  illit- ! 
erate  and  the  homeless— these  are  not  sufficient,} 
even  with  balls,  dancing  classes,  and  teas,  for  the! 
superfluous  energies  of  this  restless,  improving  gen 
eration  ;  there  must  be  also  radical  clubs,  reading 
classes,  study  classes,  ethical,  historical,  scientific, 
literary  lectures,  the  reading  of  papers  by  ladies  of 
distinction  and  gentlemen  of  special  attainments — 
an  unremitting  pursuit  of  culture  and  information. 
Curiosity  is  awake.  The  extreme  of  social  refine- 


124  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

ment  and  a  mild  Bohemianism  almost  touch.  It 
passes  beyond  the  affectation  of  knowing  persons 
who  write  books  and  write  for  the  press,  artists  in 
paint  and  artists  in  music.  "  You  cannot  be  sure  in 
the  most  exclusive  circle  " — it  was  Carmen  Eschelle 
who  said  this — "that  you  will  not  meet  an  author 
or  even  a  journalist."  Not  all  the  women,  however, 
adore  letters  or  affect  enthusiasm  at  drawing-room 
lectures;  there  are  some  bright  and  cynical  ones 
who  do  not,  who  write  papers  themselves,  and  have 
an  air  of  being  behind  the  scenes. 

Margaret  had  thought  that  she  was  fully  occu 
pied  in  the  country,  with  her  teaching,  her  read 
ing,  her  literature  and  historical  clubs,  but  she  had 
never  known  before  what  it  was  to  be  busy  and  not 
have  time  for  anything,  always  in  pursuit  of  some 
new  thing,  and  getting  a  fragment  here  and  there ; 
life  was  a  good  deal  like  reading  the  dictionary  and 
remembering  none  of  the  words.  And  it  was  all 
so  cosmopolitan  and  all-embracingly  sympathetic. 
One  day  it  was  a  paper  by  a  Servian  countess  on 
the  social  life  of  the  Servians,  absorbingly  interest 
ing  both  in  itself  and  because  it  was  a  countess  who 
read  it ;  and  this  was  followed  by  the  singing  of  an 
Icelandic  tenor  and  a  Swedish  soprano,  and  a  re 
cital  on  the  violin  by  a  slight,  red-haired,  middle- 
aged  woman  from  London.  All  the  talents  seem 
to  be  afloat  and  at  the  service  of  the  strenuous  ones 
who  are  cultivating  themselves. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  125 

The  first  function  at  which  Margaret  assisted  in 
the  long  drawing-rooms  of  the  Arbusers  was  a  se 
rious  one — one  that  combined  the  charm  of  culture 
with  the  temptations  of  benevolence.  The  rooms 
were  crowded  with  the  fashion  of  the  town,  with  a 
sprinkling  of  clergymen  and  of  thin  philanthropic 
gentlemen  in  advanced  years.  It  was  a  four-o'clock, 
and  the  assembly  had  the  cheerfulness  of  a  recep 
tion,  only  that  the  display  of  toilets  was  felt  to  be 
sanctified  by  a  purpose.  The  performance  opened 
with  a  tremendous  prelude  on  the  piano  by  Herr 
Bloomgarten,  who  had  been  Liszt's  favorite  pupil ; 
indeed,  it  was  whispered  that  Liszt  had  said  that, 
old  as  he  was,  he  never  heard  Bloomgarten  without 
learning  something.  There  was  a  good  deal  of  sub 
dued  conversation  while  the  pianist  was  in  his  ex 
treme  agony  of  execution,  and  a  hush  of  extreme 
admiration — it  was  divine,  divine,  ravishing — when 
he  had  finished. 

The  speaker  was  a  learned  female  pundit  from 
India,  and  her  object  was  to  interest  the  women  of 
America  in  the  condition  of  their  unfortunate  Hin 
doo  sisters.  It  appeared  that  thousands  and  tens 
of  thousands  of  them  were  doomed  to  early  and 
life -long  widowhood,  owing  to  the  operation  of 
cruel  caste  laws,  which  condemned  even  girls  be 
trothed  to  deceased  Brahmins  to  perpetual  celibacy. 
This  fate  could  only  be  alleviated  by  the  education 
and  elevation  of  women.  And  money  was  needed 


126  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

for  schools,  especially  for  medical  schools,  which 
would  break  down  the  walls  of  prejudice  and  en 
franchise  the  sex.  The  appeal  was  so  charmingly 
made  that  every  one  was  moved  by  it,  especially 
the  maiden  ladies  present,  who  might  be  supposed 
to  enter  into  the  feelings  of  their  dusky  sisters  be 
yond  the  seas.  The  speaker  said,  with  a  touch  of 
humor  that  always  intensifies  a  serious  discourse, 
that  she  had  been  told  that  in  one  of  the  New  Eng 
land  States  there  was  a  superfluity  of  unmarried 
women ;  but  this  Avas  an  entirely  different  affair ; 
it  was  a  matter  of  choice  with  these  highly  edu 
cated  and  accomplished  women.  And  the  day  had 
come  when  woman  could  make  her  choice !  At 
this  there  Avas  a  great  clapping  of  hands.  It  Avas 
one  thing  to  be  free  to  lead  a  life  of  single  self- 
culture,  and  quite  another  to  be  compelled  to  lead 
a  single  life  AArithout  self-culture.  The  address  Avas 
a  great  success,  and  much  enthusiasm  spread  abroad 
for  the  cause  of  the  unmarried  AAromen  of  India. 

In  the  audience  Avere  Mrs.  Eschelle  and  her 
daughter,  Margaret  and  Carmen  Avere  made  ac 
quainted,  and  Avere  drawn  together  by  curiosity, 
and  perhaps  by  a  secret  feeling  of  repulsion.  Car 
men  Avas  all  candor  and  sweetness,  and  absorbingly 
interested  in  the  Avomen  of  India,  she  said.  With 
Margaret's  permission  she  Avould  come  and  see  her, 
for  she  believed  they  had  common  friends. 

It  Avould  seem  that   there  could  not  be  much 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  127 

sympathy  between  natures  so  opposed,  persons  who 
looked  at  life  from  such  different  points  of  view, 
but  undeniably  Carmen  had  a  certain  attraction 
for  Margaret.  The  New  Englander,  whose  climate 
is  at  once  his  enemy  and  his  tonic,  always  longs 
for  the  tropics,  which  to  him  are  a  region  of  ro 
mance,  as  Italy  is  to  the  German.  In  his  nature, 
also,  there  is  something  easily  awakened  to  the  al 
lurements  of  a  sensuous  existence,  and  to  a  desire 
for  a  freer  experience  of  life  than  custom  has  al 
lowed  him.  Carmen,  who  showed  to  Margaret 
only  her  best  side — she  would  have  been  wise  to 
exhibit  no  other  to  Henderson,  but  women  of  her 
nature  are  apt  to  cheapen  themselves  with  men — 
seemed  an  embodiment  of  that  graceful  gayety 
and  fascinating  worldiness  which  make  the  world 
agreeable. 

One  morning,  a  few  days  after  the  Indian  func 
tion,  Margaret  was  alone  in  her  own  cosey  sitting- 
room.  Nothing  was  wanting  that  luxury  could 
suggest  to  make  it  in  harmony  with  a  beautiful 
woman,  nothing  that  did  not  flatter  and  please,  or 
nurse,  perhaps,  a  personal  sense  of  beauty,  and  im 
part  that  glow  of  satisfaction  which  comes  when 
the  senses  are  adroitly  ministered  to.  Margaret 
had  been  in  a  mood  that  morning  to  pay  extreme 
attention  to  her  toilet.  The  result  was  the  perfec 
tion  of  simplicity,  of  freshness,  of  maiden  purity, 
enhanced  by  the  touch  of  art.  As  she  surveyed 


128  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

herself  in  the  pier-glass,  and  noted  the  refined  lines 
of  the  morning-gown  which  draped  but  did  not  con 
ceal  the  more  exquisite  lines  of  her  figure,  and  ad 
justed  a  rose  in  her  bosom,  she  did  not  feel  like  a 
Puritan,  and,  although  she  may  not  have  noted  the 
fact,  she  did  not  look  like  one.  It  was  not  a  look 
of  vanity  that  she  threw  into  the  mirror,  or  of  spe 
cial  self -consciousness ;  in  her  toilet  she  had  obeyed 
only  her  instinct  (that  infallible  guide  in  a  woman 
of  refinement),  and  if  she  was  conscious  of  any 
emotion,  it  Avas  of  the  stirring  within  her  of  the 
deepest  womanly  nature. 

In  fact,  she  was  restless.  She  flung  herself  into 
an  easy-chair  before  the  fire,  and  took  up  a  novel. 
It  was  a  novel  with  a  religious  problem.  In  vain 
she  tried  to  be  interested  in  it.  At  home  she  would 
have  absorbed  it  eagerly;  they  would  have  dis 
cussed  it ;  the  doubts  and  suggestions  in  it  would 
have  assumed  the  deepest  personal  importance.  It 
might  have  made  an  era  in  her  thoughtful  country 
life.  Here  it  did  not  so  appeal  to  her ;  it  seemed 
unreal  and  shadowy  in  a  life  that  had  so  much 
more  of  action  than  of  reflection  in  it.  It  was  a 
life  fascinating  and  exciting,  and  profoundly  unsat 
isfactory.  Yet,  after  all,  it  was  more  really  life 
than  that  pi-acid  vegetation  in  the  country.  She 
felt  that  in  the  whirl  of  only  a  few  days  of  it — 
operas,  receptions,  teas,  readings,  dances,  dinners, 
where  everybody  sparkled  Avith  a  bewildering  brill- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  129 

iancy,  and  yet  from  which  one  brought  away  noth 
ing  but  a  sense  of  strain ;  such  gallantry,  such  com 
pliments,  such  an  easy  tossing  about  of  every  topic 
under  heaven  ;  such  an  air  of  knowing  everything, 
and  not  caring  about  anything  very  much ;  so  much 
mutual  admiration  and  personal  satisfaction  !  She 
liked  it,  and  perhaps  was  restless  because  she  liked 
it.  To  be  admired,  to  be  deferred  to — was  there 
any  harm  in  that  ?  Only,  if  one  suffers  admiration 
to-day,  it  becomes  a  necessity  to-morrow.  She  be 
gan  to  feel  the  influence  of  that  life  which  will  not 
let  one  stand  still  for  a  moment.  If  it  is  not  the 
opera,  it  is  a  charity ;  if  it  is  not  a  lover,  it  is  some 
endowed  cot  in  a  hospital.  There  must  be  some 
thing  going  on  every  day,  every  hour. 

Yes,  she  was  restless,  and  could  not  read.  She 
thought  of  Mr.  Henderson.  He  had  called  for 
mally.  She  had  seen  him,  here  and  there,  again 
and  again.  He  had  sought  her  out  in  all  com 
panies  ;  his  face  had  broken  into  a  smile  when  he 
met  her ;  he  had  talked  with  her  lightly,  gayly ; 
she  remembered  the  sound  of  his  voice;  she  had 
learned  to  know  his  figure  in  a  room  among  a  hun 
dred  ;  and  she  blushed  as  she  remembered  that  she 
had  once  or  twice  followed  him  with  her  eyes  in 
a  throng.  He  was,  to  be  sure,  nothing  to  her ;  but 
he  was  friendly ;  he  was  certainly  entertaining ; 
he  was  a  part,  somehow,  of  this  eas}T-flowing  life. 

Miss  Eschelle  was  announced.  Margaret  begged 
9 


130  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

that  she  would  come  up-stairs  without  ceremony^ 
The  mutual  taking-in  of  the  pretty  street  costume 
and  the  pretty  morning  toilet  was  the  work  of  a 
moment — the  photographer  has  invented  no  ma 
chine  that  equals  a  woman's  eyes  for  such  a  pur 
pose. 

"  How  delightful  it  is !  how  altogether  charm 
ing  !"  and  Margaret  felt  that  she  was  included  with 
the  room  in  this  admiration.  "  I  told  mamma  that 
I  was  coming  to  see  you  this  morning,  even  if  I 
missed  the  Nestors'  luncheon.  I  like  to  please  my 
self  sometimes.  Mamma  says  I'm  frivolous,  but 
do  you  know" — the  girls  were  comfortably  seated 
by  the  firej  and  Carmen  turned  her  sweet  face  and 
candid  eyes  to  her  companion — "  I  get  dreadfully 
tired  of  all  this  going  round  and  round.  No,  I 
don't  even  go  to  the  Indigent  Mothers'  Home ;  it's 
part  of  the  same  thing,  but  I  haven't  any  gift  that 
way.  Ah,  you  were  reading — that  novel." 

"  Yes ;  I  was  trying  to  read  it ;  I  intend  to 
read  it." 

"  Oh,  we  have  had  it!  It's  a  little  past  now,  but 
it  has  been  all  the  rage.  Everybody  has  read  it ; 
that  is,  I  don't  know  that  anybody  has  read  it,  but 
everybody  has  been  talking  about  it.  Of  course 
somebody  must  have  read  it,  to  set  the  thing 
agoing.  And  it  has  been  discussed  to  death.  I 
sometimes  feel  as  if  I  had  changed  my  religion 
half  a  dozen  times  in  a  fortnight.  But  I  haven't 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  131 

heard  anything  about  it  for  a  week.  "We  have 
taken  up  the  Hindoo  widows  now,  you  know." 
And  the  girl  laughed,  as  if  she  knew  she  were  talk 
ing  nonsense. 

"  And  you  do  not  read  much  in  the  city  ?"  Mar 
garet  asked,  with  an  answering  smile. 

"  Yes  ;  in  the  summer.  That  is,  some  do.  There 
is  a  reading  set.  I  don't  know  that  they  read 
much,  but  there  is  a  reading  set.  You  know,  Miss 
Debree,  that  when  a  book  is  published — really  pub 
lished,  as  Mr.  Henderson  says — you  don't  need  to 
read  it.  Somehow  it  gets  into  the  air  and  becomes 
common  property.  Everybody  hears  the  whole 
thing.  You  can  talk  about  it  from  a  notice.  Of 
course  there  are  some  novels  that  one  must  read 
in  order  to  understand  human  nature.  Do  you 
read  French  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  not  many  French  novels ;  I  cannot." 

"  £s"or  can  I,"  said  Carmen,  with  a  sincere  face. 
"  They  are  too  realistic  for  me."  She  was  at  the 
moment  running  over  in  her  mind  a  "  situation  "  in 
a  paper-covered  novel  turned  down  on  her  night- 
stand.  "Mr.  Henderson  says  that  everybody  con 
demns  the  French  novels,  and  that  people  praise 
the  novels  they  don't  read." 

"  You  know  Mr.  Henderson  very  well  ?" 

"  Yes ;  we've  known  him  a  long  time.  He  is 
the  only  man  I'm  afraid  of." 

"Afraid  of?" 


132  A  kittle  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  Well,  you  know  he  is  a  sort  of  Club  man :  that 
style  of  man  provokes  your  curiosity,  for  you  never 
can  tell  how  much  such  men  know.  It  makes  you 
a  little  uneasy." . 

Carmen  was  looking  into  the  fire,  as  if  abstract 
edly  reflecting  upon  the  nature  of  men  in  general, 
but  she  did  not  fail  to  notice  a  slight  expression  of 
pain  on  Margaret's  face. 

"  But  there  is  your  Mr.  Lyon— 

Margaret  laughed.  "  You  do  me  too  much  hon 
or.  I  think  you  discovered  him  first." 

"  Well,  our  Mr.  Lyon."  Carmen  was  still  looking 
into  the  fire.  "  He  is  such  a  good  young  man !" 

Margaret  did  not  exactly  fancy  this  sort  of  com 
mendation,  and  she  replied,  with  somewhat  the 
tone  of  defending  him,  "  We  all  have  the  highest 
regard  for  Mr.  Lyon." 

"  Yes,  and  he  is  quite  gone  on  Brandon,  I  assure 
you.  He  intends  to  do  a  great  deal  of  good  in  the 
world.  I  think  he  spends  half  his  time  in  New 
York  studying,  he  calls  it,  our  charitable  institu 
tions.  Mamma  reproaches  me  that  I  don't  take 
more  interest  in  philanthropy.  That  is  her  world 
ly  side.  Everybody  has  a  worldly  side.  I'm'  as 
worldly  as  I  can  be" — this  with  a  look  of  inno 
cence  that  denied  the  self  -  accusation  —  "but  I 
haven't  any  call  to  marry  into  Exeter  Hall  and 
that  sort  of  thing.  That  is  what  she  means — dear 
mamma.  Are  you  High-Church  or  evangelical  V 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  133 

she  asked,  after  a  moment,  turning  to  Margaret,  as 
if  the  question  were  of  the  utmost  importance. 

Margaret  explained  that  she  was  neither. 

"  Well,  I  am  High-Church,  and  Mr.  Lyon  is  evan 
gelical —  Church  evangelical.  There  couldn't  be 
any  happiness,  you  know,  without  harmony  in  re 
ligious  belief." 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  Margaret,  now  quite 
recovering  herself.  "  It  must  be  a  matter  of  great 
anxiety  to  you  here." 

Carmen  was  quick  to  note  the  change  of  tone, 
and  her  face  beamed  with  merriment  as  she  rose. 

"What  nonsense  I've  been  talking!  I  did  not 
intend  to  go  into  such  deep  things.  You  must  not 
mind  what  I  said  about  Mr.  (a  little  pause  to  read 
Margaret's  face) — Mr.  Lyon.  We  esteem  him  as 
much  as  you  do.  How  charming  you  are  looking 
this  morning!  I  wish  I  had  your  secret  of  not 
letting  this  life  tell  on  one."  And  she  was  gone 
in  a  shower  of  compliments  and  smiles  and  caress 
ing  ways.  She  had  found  out  what  she  came  to 
find  out.  Mr.  Henderson  needs  watching,  she  said 
to  herself. 

The  interview,  as  Margaret  thought  it  over,  was 
amusing,  but  it  did  not  raise  her  spirits.  Was 
everybody  worldly  and  shallow?  Was  this  the 
sort  of  woman  whom  Mr.  Henderson  fancied? 
Was  Mr.  Henderson  the  sort  of  man  to  whom  such 
a  woman  would  be  attracted  ? 


IX. 

IT  was  a  dinner  party  in  one  of  the  uptown 
houses — palaces — that  begin  to  repeat  in  size,  spa 
ciousness  of  apartments,  and  decoration  the  splen 
dor  of  the  Medicean  merchant  princes.  It  is  the 
penalty  that  we  pay  for  the  freedom  of  republican 
opportunity  that  some  must  be  very  rich.  This  is 
the  logical  outcome  of  the  open  chance  for  every 
body  to  be  rich — and  it  is  the  surest  way  to  dis 
tinction.  In  a  free  country  the  course  must  be  run, 
and  it  is  by  the  accumulation  of  great  wealth  that 
one  can  get  beyond  anxiety,  and  be  at  liberty  to 
indulge  in  republican  simplicity. 

Margaret  and  Miss  Arbuser  were  ushered  in 
through  a  double  row  of  servants  in  livery — short- 
clothes  and  stockings — in  decorous  vacuity — an 
array  necessary  to  bring  into  relief  the  naturalness 
and  simplicity  of  the  entertainers.  Vulgarity,  one 
can  see,  consists  in  making  one's  self  a  part  of  the 
display  of  wealth :  the  thing  to  be  attained  is  per 
sonal  simplicity  on  a  background  of  the  richest  os 
tentation.  It  is  difficult  to  attain  this,  and  thepry 
says  that  it  takes  three  generations  for  a  man  to 
separate  himself  thus  from  his  display.  It  was  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  135 

tattle  of  the  town  that  the  first  owner  of  the  pict 
ures  in  the  gallery  of  the  Stott  mansion  used  to 
tell  the  prices  to  his  visitors ;  the  third  owner  is 
quite  beyond  remembering  them.  He  might  men 
tion,  laughingly,  that  the  ornamented  shovel  in  the 
great  fireplace  in  the  library  was  decorated  by 
Yavani — it  was  his  wife's  fancy.  But  he  did  not 
say  that  the  ceiling  in  the  music-room  was  painted 
by  Pontifex  Lodge,  or  that  six  Italian  artists  had 
worked  four  years  making  the  Corean  room,  every 
inch  of  it  exquisite  as  an  intaglio — indeed,  the  re 
porters  had  made  the  town  familiar  with  the  cost 
ly  facts. 

The  present  occupants  understood  quite  well  the 
value  of  a  background :  the  house  swarmed  with 
servants  —  retainers,  one  might  say.  Margaret, 
who  was  fresh  from  her  history  class,  recalled  the 
days  of  Elizabeth,  when  a  man's  importance  was 
gauged  by  the  retinue  of  servitors  and  men  and 
women  in  waiting.  And  this  is,  after  all,  a  better 
test  of  wealth  than  a  mere  accumulation  of  things 
and  cost  of  decoration ;  for  though  men  and  women 
do  not  cost  so  much  originally  as  good  pictures — 
that  is,  good  men  and  women — everybody  knows 
that  it  needs  more  revenue  to  maintain  them. 
Though  the  dinner  party  was  not  large,  there  was 
to  be  a  dance  afterwards,  and  for  every  guest  was 
provided  a  special  attendant. 

The  dinner  was  served  in  the  state  dining-room, 


136  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

to  which  Mr.  Henderson  had  the  honor  of  con 
ducting  Margaret.  Here  prevailed  also  the  same 
studied  simplicity.  The  seats  were  for  sixteen. 
The  table  went  to  the  extremity  of  elegant  plain 
ness,  no  crowding,  no  confusion  of  colors  under  the 
soft  lights ;  if  there  was  ostentation  anywhere,  it 
was  in  the  dazzling  fineness  of  the  expanse  of 
table-linen,  not  in  the  few  rare  flowers,  or  the 
crystal,  or  the  plate,  which  was  of  solid  gold,  sim 
ply  modest.  The  eye  is  pleased  by  this  chastity — 
pure  whiteness,  the  glow  of  yellow,  the  slight  touch 
of  sensuous  warmth  in  the  rose.  The  dinner  was 
in  keeping,  short,  noiselessly  served  under  the  eye 
of  the  maitre  d?  hotel,  few  courses,  few  wines ;  no 
anxiety  on  the  part  of  the  host  and  hostess — per 
haps  just  a  little  consciousness  that  everything  was 
simple  and  elegant,  a  little  consciousness  of  the 
background ;  but  another  generation  will  remove 
that. 

If  to  Margaret's  country  apprehension  the  con 
versation  was  not  quite  up  to  the  level  of  the  din 
ner  and  the  house — what  except  that  of  a  circle  of 
wits,  who  would  be  out  of  place  there,  could  be  ? — 
the  presence  of  Mr.  Henderson,  who  devoted  him 
self  to  her,  made  the  lack  unnoticed.  The  talk  ran, 
as  usual,  on  the  opera,  Wagner,  a  Christmas  party 
at  Lenox,  at  Tuxedo,  somebody's  engagement,  some 
lucky  hit  in  the  Exchange,  the  irritating  personali 
ties  of  the  newspapers,  the  last  English  season,  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  137 

marriage  of  the  Duchess  of  Bolinbroke,  a  confiden 
tial  disclosure  of  who  would  be  in  the  Cabinet  and 
who  would  have  missions,  a  jocular  remark  across 
the  table  about  a  "  corner "  (it  is  impossible  abso 
lutely  here,  as  well  as  at  a  literary  dinner,  to  sink 
the  shop),  the  Sunday  opening  of  galleries — any 
thing  to  pass  the  hour,  the  ladies  contributing  most 
of  the  vivacity  and  persiflage. 

UI  saw  you,  Mr.  Henderson " — it  was  Mrs.  La- 
flamme  raising  her  voice — "  the  other  night  in  a 
box  with  a  very  pretty  woman." 

«  Yes— Miss  Eschelle." 

"  I  don't  know  them.  We  used  to  hear  of  them 
in  Naples,  Venice,  various  places ;  they  were  in  Eu 
rope  some  time,  I  believe.  She  was  said  to  be  very 
entertaining — and  enterprising." 

"Well,  I  suppose  they  have  seen  something  of 
the  world.  The  other  lady  was  her  mother.  And 
the  man  with  us — that  might  interest  you  more, 
Mrs.  Laflamme — was  Mr.  Lyon,  who  Avill  be  the 
Earl  of  Chisholm." 

"  Ah !     Then  I  suppose  she  has  money  ?" 

"I  never  saw  any  painful  evidence  of  poverty. 
But  I  don't  think  Mr.  Lyon  is  fortune -hunting. 
He  seems  to  be  after  information  and  —  good 
ness." 

Margaret  flushed  a  little,  but  apparently  Hen 
derson  did  not  notice  it.  Then  she  said  (after  Mrs. 
Laflamme  had  dropped  the  subject  with  the  remark 


138  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

that  he  had  come  to  the  right  place),  "  Miss  Eschelle 
called  on  me  yesterday." 

"  And  was,  no  doubt,  agreeable." 

"  She  was,  as  Mrs.  Laflamme  says,  entertaining. 
She  quoted  you  a  good  deal." 

"  Quoted  me  ?     For  what  ?" 

"  As  one  would  a  book,  as  a  familiar  authority." 

u  I  suppose  I  ought  to  be  flattered,  if  you  will 
excuse  the  street  expression,  to  have  my  stock 
quotable.  Perhaps  you  couldn't  tell  whether  Miss 
Eschelle  was  a  bull  or  a  bear  in  this  case  ?" 

"  I  don't  clearly  know  what  that  is.  She  didn't 
offer  me  any,"  said  Margaret,  in  a  tone  of  carrying 
on  the  figure  without  any  personal  meaning. 

"  Well,  she  is  a  bit  of  an  operator.  A  good  many 
women  here  amuse  themselves  a  little  in  stocks." 

"  It  doesn't  seem  to  me  very  feminine." 

"  No  ?  But  women  generally  like  to  take  risks 
and  chances.  In  countries  where  lotteries  are  es 
tablished  they  always  buy  tickets." 

"Ah!  then  they  only  risk  what  they  have.  I 
think  women  are  more  prudent  and  conservative 
than  men." 

"No  doubt.  They  are  conservatives  usually. 
But  when  they  do  go  in  for  radical  measures  and 
risks,  they  leave  us  quite  behind."  Mr.  Henderson 
did  not  care  to  extend  the  conversation  in  this  di 
rection,  and  he  asked,  abruptly,  "Are  you  finding 
New  York  agreeable,  Miss  Debree  ?" 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  139 

"  Yes.  Yes  and  no.  One  has  no  time  to  one's 
self.  Do  you  understand  why  it  is,  Mr.  Hender 
son,  that  one  can  enjoy  the  whole  day  and  then  be 
thoroughly  dissatisfied  with  it  ?" 

u  Perfectly  ;  when  the  excitement  is  over." 

"And  then  I  don't  seem  to  be  myself  here.  I 
have  a  feeling  of  having  lost  myself." 

"  Because  the  world  is  so  big  ?" 

"  Not  that.  Do  you  know,  the  world  seems  much 
smaller  here  than  at  home." 

"  And  the  city  appears  narrow  and  provincial  ?" 

"  I  cannot  quite  explain  it.  The  interests  of  life 
don't  seem  so  large — the  questions,  I  mean,  what  is 
going  on  in  Europe,  the  literature,  the  reforms,  the 
politics.  I  get  a  wider  view  when  I  stand  off — at 
home.  I  suppose  it  is  more  concentrated  here. 
And,  oh  dear,  I'm  so  stupid !  Everybody  is  so  alert 
in  little  things,  so  quick  to  turn  a  compliment,  and 
say  a  bright  thing.  While  I  am  getting  ready  to 
say  what  I  really  think  about  Browning,  for  in 
stance,  he  is  disposed  of  in  a  sentence." 

"  That  is  because  you  try  to  say  what  you  really 
think." 

"  If  one  don't,  what's  the  use  of  talk  ?" 

"  Oh,  to  pass  the  time." 

Margaret  looked  up  to  see  if  Henderson  was  se 
rious.  There  was  a  smile  of  amusement  on  his  face, 
but  not  at  all  offensive,  because  the  woman  saw  that 
it  was  a  look  of  interest  also. 


14:0  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  Then  I  sha'n't  be  serious  any  more,"  she  said, 
as  there  was  a  movement  to  quit  the  table. 

"  That  l&ys  the  responsibility  on  me  of  being  se 
rious,"  he  replied,  in  the  same  light  tone. 

Later  they  were  wandering  through  the  picture- 
gallery  together.  A  gallery  of  modern  pictures  ap 
peals  for  the  most  part  to  the  senses — represents 
the  pomps,  the  color,  the  allurements  of  life.  It 
struck  Henderson  forcibly  that  this  gallery,  which 
he  knew  well,  appeared  very  different  looking  at 
it  with  Miss  Debree  from  what  it  would  if  he  had 
been  looking  at  it  with  Miss  Eschelle.  There  were 
some  pictures  that  he  hurried  past,  some  technical 
excellences — only  used  for  sensuous  effects — that 
he  did  not  call  attention  to  as  he  might  have  done 
with  another.  Curiously  enough,  he  found  himself 
seeking  sentiment,  purity.  If  the  drawing  was  bad, 
Margaret  knew  it ;  if  a  false  note  was  struck,  she 
saw  it.  But  she  wras  not  educated  up  to  a  good 
many  of  the  suggestions  of  the  gallery.  Henderson 
perceived  this,  and  his  manner  to  her  became  more 
deferential  and  protective.  It  was  a  manner  to 
which  every  true  woman  responds,  and  Margaret 
was  happy,  more  herself,  and  talked  with  a  freedom 
and  gayety,  a  spice  of  satire,  and  a  note  of  reality 
that  made  her  every  moment  more  attractive  to  her 
companion.  In  her  animation  the  charm  of  her  un 
worn  beauty  blazed  upon  him  with  a  direct  person 
al  appeal.  He  hardly  cared  to  conceal  his  frank 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  141 

admiration.  She,  on  her  part,  was  thinking,  what 
could  Miss  Eschelle  mean  by  saying  that  she  was 
afraid  of  him  ? 

"  Does  the  world  seem  any  larger  here,  Miss  De- 
bree  ?"  he  asked,  as  they  had  lingeringly  made  tho 
circuit  of  the  room  and  passed  out  through  the  trop 
ical  conservatory  to  join  the  rest  of  the  company. 

"  Yes — away  from  people." 

"  Then  it  is  not  numbers,  I  am  glad  to  know,  that 
make  a  world." 

She  did  not  reply.  But  when  he  encountered 
her,  robed  for  departure,  at  the  foot  of  the  stair 
way,  she  gave  him  her  hand  in  good-night,  and 
their  eyes  met  for  a  moment. 

I  wonder  if  that  was  the  time  ?  Probably  not. 
I  fancy  that  when  the  right  day  came  she  confessed 
that  the  moment  was  when  she  first  saw  him  enter 
their  box  at  the  opera, 

Henderson  walked  down  the  avenue  slowly,  hear 
ing  the  echo  of  his  own  steps  in  the  deserted  street. 
He  was  in  no  haste  to  reach  home.  It  was  such  a 
delightful  evening — snowing  a  little,  and  cold,  but  so 
exhilarating.  He  remembered  just  how  she  turned 
her  head  as  she  got  into  the  carriage.  She  had 
touched  his  arm  lightly  once  in  the  gallery  to  call 
his  attention  to  a  picture.  Yes,  the  world  was 
larger,  larger  by  one,  and  it  would  seem  large — her 
image  came  to  him  distinctly — if  she  were  the  only 
one. 


142  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

Henderson  was  under  the  spell  of  this  evening 
when  the  next,  in  response  to  a  note  asking  him  to 
call  for  a  moment  on  business,  he  was  shown  into 
the  Eschelle  drawing-room.  It  was  dimly  lighted, 
but  familiarity  with  the  place  enabled  him  without 
difficulty  to  find  his  way  down  the  long  suite,  rath 
er  overcrowded  with  luxurious  furniture,  statuary, 
and  pictures  on  easels,  to  the  little  library  at  the 
far  end  glowing  in  a  rosy  light. 

There,  ensconced  in  a  big  chair,  a  book  in  her 
hand,  one  pretty  foot  on  the  fender,  sat  Carmen, 
in  a  grayish,  vaporous  toilet,  which  took  a  warm 
hue  from  the  color  of  the  spreading  lamp-shades. 
On  the  carved  table  near  was  a  litter  of  books  and 
of  nameless  little  articles,  costly  and  coquettish, 
which  assert  femininity,  even  in  a  literary  atmos 
phere.  Over  the  fireplace  hung  a  picture  of  spring 
— a  budding  girl,  smiling  and  winning,  in  a  semi- 
transparent  raiment,  advancing  with  swift  steps  to 
bring  in  the  season  of  flowers  and  of  love.  The 
hand  that  held  the  book  rested  upon  the  arm  of 
the  chair,  a  finger  inserted  in  the  place  where  she 
had  been  reading,  her  rounded  white  arm  visible  to 
the  elbow,  and  Carmen  was  looking  into  the  fire 
in  the  attitude  of  reflection  upon  a  suggestive  pas 
sage. 

Women  have  so  many  forms  of  attraction,  dif 
ferent  women  are  attractive  in  so  many  different 
ways,  moods  are  so  changing,  beauty  is  so  unde- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  143 

finable,  and  has  so  many  weapons.  And  yet  men 
are  called  inconstant ! 

It  was  not  until  Henderson  had  time  to  take  in 
the  warmth  of  this  domestic  picture  that  Carmen 
rose. 

"  It  is  so  good  of  you  to  come,  with  all  your  en 
gagements.  Mamma  is  excused  with  a  headache, 
but  she  has  left  me  power  of  attorney  to  ask  ques 
tions  about  our  little  venture." 

"  I  hope  the  attorney  will  not  put  me  through  a 
cross-exam  i  nation ." 

"  That  depends  upon  how  you  have  been  behav 
ing,  Mr.  Henderson.  I'm  not  very  cross  yet.  Now, 
sit  there  so  that  I  can  look  at  you  and  see  how 
honest  you  are." 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  put  on  my  business  or  my 
evening  expression?" 

"  Oh,  the  first,  if  you  mean  business." 

""Well,  your  stocks  are  going  up." 

"  That's  nice.  You  are  so  lucky  !  Everything 
goes  up  with  you.  Do  you  know  what  they  say 
of  you?" 

"  Nothing  bad,  I  hope  ?" 

"  That  everything  you  touch  turns  to  gold. 
That  you  will  be  one  of  the  nabobs  of  New  York 
in  ten  years." 

"  That's  a  startling  destiny." 

"  Isn't  it  ?  I  don't  like  it."  The  girl  seemed 
very  serious.  "  I'd  like  you  to  be  distinguished. 


144  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

To  be  in  the  Cabinet.  To  be  minister — go  to  Eng 
land.  But  one  needs  a  great  deal  of  money  for 
that,  to  go  as  one  ought  to  go.  What  a  career  is 
open  to  a  man  in  this  country  if  he  has  money !" 

"  But  I  don't  care  for  politics." 

"  Who  does  ?  But  position.  You  can  afford 
that  if  you  have  money  enough.  Do  you  know, 
Mr.  Henderson,  I  think  you  are  dull." 

"  Thank  you.     I  reckoned  you'd  find  it  out." 

"  The  other  night  at  the  Nestor  ball  a  lady — no, 
I  won't  tell  you  who  she  is — asked  me  if  I  knew 
who  that  man  was  across  the  room ;  such  an  air 
of  distinction ;  might  be  the  new  British  Minister. 
You  know,  I  almost  blushed  when  I  said  I  did 
know  him." 

"Well?" 

"  You  see  what  people  expect  of  you.  When  a 
man  looks  distinguished  and  is  clever,  and  knows 
how  to  please  if  he  likes,  he  cannot  help  having  a 
career,  unless  he  is  afraid  to  take  the  chances." 

Henderson  was  not  conscious  of  ever  being  want 
ing  in  this  direction.  The  picture  conjured  up  by 
the  ingenious  girl  wras  not  unfamiliar  to  his  mind, 
and  he  understood  quite  well  the  relation  to  it  that 
Carmen  had  in  her  mind ;  but  he  did  not  take  the 
lead  offered.  Instead,  he  took  refuge  in  the  usual 
commonplace,  and  asked,  "Wouldn't  you  like  to 
have  been  a  man  f 

"  Heaven  forbid  !    I  should  be  too  wicked.     It  is 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  145 

responsibility  enough  to  be  a  woman.  I  did  not 
expect  such  a  banality  from  you.  Do  you  think, 
Mr.  Henderson,  we  had  better  sell  ?" 

"  Sell  what  ?" 

"  Our  stocks.  You  are  so  occupied  that  I  thought 
they  might  fall  when  you  are  up  in  the  clouds  some 
where." 

"  No,  I  shall  not  forget." 

"Well,  such  things  happen.  I  might  forget  you 
if  it  were  not  for  the  stocks." 

"  Then  I  shall  keep  the  stocks,  even  if  they  fall." 

"  And  we  should  both  fall  together.  That  would 
be  some  compensation.  Not  much.  Going  to  smash 
with  you  would  be  something  like  going  to  church 
with  Mr.  Lyon.  It  might  have  a  steadying  effect." 

"What  has  come  over  you  to-night,  Carmen?" 
Henderson  asked,  leaning  forward  with  an  expres 
sion  of  half  amusement,  half  curiosity. 

"  I've  been  thinking — doesn't  that  astonish  you  ? 
—about  life.  It  is  very  serious.  I  got  some  new 
views  talking  with  that  Miss  Debree  from  Bran 
don.  Chiefly  from  what  she  didn't  say.  She  is 
such  a  lovely  girl,  and  just  as  unsophisticated- 
well,  as  we  are.  I  fear  I  shocked  her  by  telling 
her  your  opinion  of  French  novels." 

"  You  didn't  tell  her  that  I  approved  of  all  the 
French  novels  you  read  ?" 

"  Oh  no !  I  didn't  say  you  approved  of  any.  It 
sort  of  came  out  that  you  knew  about  them.  She 
10 


146  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

is  so  downright  and  conscientious.  I  declare  I  felt 
virtuous  shivers  running  all  over  me  all  the  time  I 
was  with  her.  I'm  conscientious  myself.  I  want 
everybody  to  know  the  worst  of  me.  I  wish  I 
could  practise  some  concealment.  But  she  rather 
discourages  me.  She  would  take  the  color  out  of 
a  career.  She  somehow  doesn't  allow  for  color,  I 
could  see.  Duty,  duty — that  is  the  way  she  looks 
at  life.  She'd  try  to  keep  me  up  to  it ;  no  playing 
by  the  way.  I  liked  her  very  much.  I  like  people 
not  to  have  too  much  toleration.  She  would  be 
just  the  wife  for  some  nice  country  rector." 

"  Perhaps  I  ought  to  tell  her  your  plan  for  her  ? 
I  dined  with  her  last  night  at  the  Stotts'." 

"  Yes  ?"  Carmen  had  been  wondering  if  he 
would  tell  her  of  that.  "  Was  it  very  dull  ?" 

"Not  very.  There  was  music,  distant  enough 
not  to  interfere  with  conversation,  and  the  gallery 
afterwards." 

"It  must  have  been  very  exhilarating.  You 
talked  about  the  Duchess  of  Bolinbroke,  and  the 
opera,  and  Prince  Talleyrand,  and  the  corner  in 
wheat — dear  me,  I  know,  so  decorous !  And  you 
said  Miss  Debree  was  there  ?" 

"  I  had  the  honor  of  taking  her  out." 

"Mr.  Henderson" — the  girl  had  risen  to  adjust 
the  lamp-shade,  and  now  stood  behind  his  chair 
with  her  arm  resting  on  it,  so  that  he  was  obliged 
to  turn  his  head  backward  to  see  her — "  Mr.  Hen- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.          147 

derson,  do  you  know  you  are  getting  to  be  a  des 
perate  flirt  ?"  The  laughing  eyes  looking  into  his 
said  that  was  not  such  a  desperate  thing  to  do  if 
he  chose  the  right  object. 

"Who  taught  me?"  He  raised  his  left  hand. 
She  did  not  respond  to  the  overture,  except  to  snap 
the  hand  with  her  index-finger,  and  was  back  in 
her  chair  again,  regarding  him  demurely. 

"  I  think  we  shall  go  abroad  soon."  The  little 
foot  was  on  the  fender  again,  and  the  face  had  the 
look  of  melancholy  resolution. 

"And  leave  Mr.  Lyon  without  any  protection 
here  ?"  The  remark  was  made  in  a  tone  of  good- 
humored  raillery,  but  for  some  reason  it  seemed  to 
sting  the  girl. 

"  Pshaw !"  she  said.  "  How  can  you  talk  such 
nonsense?  You,"  and  she  rose  to  her  feet  in  in 
dignation —  "you  to  advise  an  American  girl  to 
sell  herself  for  a  title — the  chance  of  a  title.  I'm 
ashamed  of  you !" 

"  Why,  Carmen,"  he  replied,  flushing,  "  I  advised 
nothing  of  the  sort.  I  hadn't  the  least  idea.  I 
don't  care  a  straw  for  Mr.  Lyon." 

"That's  just  it ;  you  don't  care,"  sinking  into  her 
seat,  still  unappeased.  "  I  think  I'll  tell  Mr.  Lyon 
that  he  wrill  have  occupation  enough  to  keep  him 
in  this  country  if  he  puts  his  money  into  that 
scheme  you  were  talking  over  the  other  night." 

Henderson  was  in  turn  annoved.     "  You  can  tell 


148  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

him  anything  you  like.  I'm  no  more  responsi 
ble  for  his  speculations  than  for  his  domestic  con 
cerns." 

"  Now  you  are  offended.  It's  not  nice  of  you 
to  put  me  in  the  wrong  when  you  know  how  im 
pulsive  I  am.  I  wish  I  didn't  let  my  feelings  run 
away  with  me."  This  said  reflectively,  and  look 
ing  away  from  him.  And  then,  turning  towards 
him  with  wistful,  pleading  eyes :  "  Do  you  know,  I 
sometimes  wish  I  had  never  seen  you.  You  have 
so  much  power  to  make  a  person  very  bad  or  very 
good." 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Henderson,  rising,  "  we 
mustn't  quarrel  about  an  Englishman  —  such  old 
friends." 

"  Yes,  we  are  very  old  friends."  The  girl  rose 
also,  and  gave  him  her  hand.  "  Perhaps  that's  the 
worst  of  it.  If  I  should  lose  your  esteem  I  should 
go  into  a  convent."  She  dropped  his  hand,  and 
snatching  a  bunch  of  violets  from  the  table,  fixed 
them  in  his  button-hole,  looking  up  in  his  face  with 
vestal  sweetness.  "  You  are  not  offended  ?" 

"  Kot  a  bit ;  not  the  least  in  the  world,"  said 
Henderson,  heartily,  patting  the  hand  that  still  lin 
gered  upon  his  lapel. 

When  he  had  gone,  Carmen  sank  into  her  chair 
with  a  gesture  of  vexation,  and  there  were  hard 
lines  in  her  sweet  face.  "What  an  insensible 
stick !"  Then  she  ran  up-stairs  to  her  mother,  who 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  149 

sat  in  her  room  reading  one  of  the  town  weeklies, 
into  which  some  elderly  ladies  look  for  something 
to  condemn. 

"Well?" 

"  Such  a  stupid  evening !  He  is  just  absorbed  in 
that  girl  from  Brandon.  I  told  him  we  were  going 
abroad." 

"  Going  abroad!  You  are  crazy,  child.  New 
York  is  forty  times  as  amusing." 

"And  forty  times  as  tiresome.  I'm  sick  of  it. 
Mamma,  don't  you  think  it  would  be  only  civil  to 
ask  Mr.  Lyon  to  a  quiet  dinner  before  he  goes  ?" 

"  Certainly.  That  is  what  I  said  the  other  day. 
I  thought  you— 

"Yes,  I  was  ill-natured  then.  But  I  Avant  to 
please  you.  And  we  really  ought  to  be  civil." 

One  day  is  so  like  another  in  the  city.  Every 
day  something  new,  and  the  new  the  same  thing 
over  again.  And  always  the  expectation  that  it 
will  be  different  to-morrow.  Nothing  is  so  tire 
some  as  a  kaleidoscope,  though  it  never  repeats 
itself. 

Fortunately  there  are  two  pursuits  that  never 
pall — making  money  and  making  love. 

Henderson  had  a  new  object  in  life,  though  the 
new  one  did  not  sensibly  divert  him  from  the  old ; 
it  rather  threw  a  charming  light  over  it,  and  made 
the  possibilities  of  it  more  attractive.  In  all  his 


150  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

schemes  he  found  the  thought  of  Margaret  enter 
ing.  Why  should  it  not  have  been  Carmen?  he 
sometimes  thought.  She  thoroughly  understood 
him.  She  would  never  stand  in  the  way  of  his 
most  daring  ambitions  with  any  scruples.  Her 
conscience  would  never  nag  his.  She  would  be 
ambitious  for  a  career  for  him.  Would  she  care 
for  him  or  the  career?  How  clever  she  was !  And 
affectionate  ?  She  would  be  if  she  had  a  heart. 

He  was  not  balancing  the  two.  What  man  ever 
does,  in  fact  ?  It  was  simply  because  Margaret 
had  a  heart  that  he  loved  her,  that  she  seemed  nec 
essary  to  him.  He  was  quite  capable  of  making 
a  match  for  his  advancement,  but  he  felt  strong 
enough  to  make  one  for  his  own  pleasure.  And  if 
there  are  men  so  worldly  as  not  to  be  attracted  to 
unworldliness  in  a  woman,  Henderson  was  not  one 
of  them.  If  his  heart  had  not  dictated,  his  brain 
would  have  told  him  the  value  of  the  sympathy  of 
a  good  woman. 

He  was  a  very  busy  man,  in  the  thick  of  the 
struggle  for  a  great  fortune.  It  did  not  occur 
to  him  to  reflect  whether  she  would  approve  all 
the  methods  he  resorted  to,  but  all  the  women  he 
knew  liked  success,  and  the  thought  of  her  invig 
orated  him.  If  she  once  loved  him,  she  would  ap 
prove  what  he  did. 

He  saw  much  of  her  in  those  passing  days — days 
that  went  like  a  dream  to  one  of  them  at  least. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  151 

He  was  a  welcome  guest  at  the  Arbusers',  but  he 
saw  little  of  Margaret  alone.  It  did  not  matter. 
A  chance  look  is  a  volume;  a  word  is  a  library. 
They  saw  each  other ;  they  heard  each  other. 
And  then  passion  grows  almost  as  well  in  the  ab 
sence  as  in  the  presence  of  the  object.  Imagina 
tion  then  has  free  play.  A  little  separation  some 
times  will  fan  it  into  a  flame. 

The  days  went  by,  and  Margaret's  visit  was 
over.  I  am  obliged  to  say  that  the  leave-taking 
was  a  gay  one,  as  full  of  laughter  as  it  was  of 
hope.  Brandon  was  such  a  little  way  off.  Hen 
derson  often  had  business  there.  The  Misses  Ar- 
buser  said,  "  Of  course."  And  Margaret  said  he 
must  not  forget  that  she  lived  there.  Even  when 
she  bade  her  entertainers  an  affectionate  good-bye, 
she  could  not  look  very  unhappy. 

Spring  was  coming.  That  day  in  the  cars  there 
were  few  signs  of  it  on  the  road-side  to  be  seen, 
but  the  buds  were  swelling.  And  Margaret,  neg 
lecting  the  book  which  lay  on  her  lap,  and  looking 
out  the  window,  felt  it  in  all  her  veins. 


X. 

IT  is  said  tbat  the  world  is  created  anew  for 
every  person  who  is  in  love.  There  is  therefore 
this  constant  miracle  of  a  new  heavens  and  a  new 
earth.  It  does  not  depend  upon  the  seasons.  The 
subtle  force  which  is  in  every  human  being,  more 
or  less  active,  has  this  power,  as  if  love  were  some 
how  a  principle  pervading  nature  itself,  and  capa 
ble  of  transforming  it.  Is  this  a  divine  gift  ?  Can 
it  be  used  more  than  once  ?  Once  spent,  does  the 
world  to  each  succeeding  experimenter  in  it  be 
come  old  and  stale  ?  We  say  the  world  is  old.  In 
one  sense,  the  real  sense  to  every  person,  it  is  no 
older  than  the  lives  lived  in  it  at  any  given  time; 
If  it  is  always  passing  away,  it  is  always  being  re 
newed.  Every  time  a  youth  looks  love  in  a  maid 
en's  eyes,  and  sees  the  timid  appealing  return  of 
the  universal  passion,  the  world  for  those  two  is 
just  as  certainly  created  as  it  was  on  the  first 
morning,  in  all  its  color,  odor,  song,  freshness,  prom 
ise.  This  is  the  central  mystery  of  life. 

Unconsciously  to  herself,  Margaret  had  worked 
this  miracle.  Never  before  did  the  little  town 
look  so  bright ;  never  before  was  there  exactly 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  153 

such  a  color  on  the  hills — sentiment  is  so  pale  com 
pared  with  love ;  never  before  did  her  home  ap 
pear  so  sweet ;  never  before  was  there  such  a  fine 
ecstasy  in  the  coming  of  spring. 

For  all  this,  home-coming,  after  the  first  excite 
ment  of  arrival  is  over,  is  apt  to  be  dull.  The 
mind  is  so  occupied  with  other  emotions  that  the 
friends  even  seem  a  little  commonplace  and  unre 
sponsive,  and  the  routine  is  tame.  Out  of  such  a 
whirl  of  new  experiences  to  return  and  find  that 
nothing  has  happened ;  that  the  old  duties  and  re 
sponsibilities  are  waiting!  Margaret  had  eagerly 
leaped  from  the  carriage  to  throw  herself  into  her 
aunt's  arms — what  a  sweet  welcome  it  is,  that 
of  kin ! — and  yet  almost  before  the  greeting  was 
over  she  felt  alone.  There  was  that  in  the  affec 
tionate  calmness  of  Miss  Forsythe  that  seemed  to 
chill  the  glow  and  fever  of  passion  in  her  new 
world.  And  she  had  nothing  to  tell.  Everything 
had  changed,  and  she  must  behave  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  She  must  take  up  her  old  life — 
the  interests  of  the  neighborhood.  Even  the  little 
circle  of  people  she  loved  appeared  distant  from 
her  at  the  moment ;  impossible  it  seemed  to  bring 
them  into  the  rushing  current  of  her  life.  Their 
joy  in  getting  her  back  again  she  could  not  doubt, 
nor  the  personal  affection  with  which  she  was  wel 
comed.  But  was  the  New  England  atmosphere  a 
little  cold  ?  What  was  the  flavor  she  missed  in  it 


154  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

all  ?  The  next  day  a  letter  came.  The  excuse  for 
it  was  the  return  of  a  fan  which  Mr.  Henderson 
had  carried  off  in  his  pocket  from  the  opera.  What 
a  wonderful  letter  it  was — his  handwriting,  the 
first  note  from  him !  Miss  Forsy the  saw  in  it  only 
politeness.  For  Margaret  it  outweighed  the  town 
of  Brandon.  It  lay  in  her  lap  as  she  sat  at  her 
chamber  window  looking  out  over  the  landscape, 
which  was  beginning  to  be  flushed  with  a  pale 
green.  There  was  a  robin  on  the  lawn,  and  a 
blackbird  singing  in  the  pine.  "  Go  not,  happy 
day,"  she  said,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  She  took 
up  the  brief  letter  and  read  it  again.  Was  he 
really  hers,  "truly"?  And  she  answered  the  let 
ter,  swiftly  and  with  no  hesitation,  but  with  a 
throbbing  heart.  It  was  a  civil  acknowledgment ; 
that  was  all.  Henderson  might  have  read  it  aloud 
in  the  Exchange.  But  what  color,  what  charming 
turns  of  expression,  what  of  herself,  had  the  girl 
put  into  it,  that  gave  him  such  a  thrill  of  pleasure 
when  he  read  it  ?  "What  secret  power  has  a  wom 
an  to  make  a  common  phrase  so  glow  with  her 
very  self  ? 

Here  was  something  in  her  life  that  was  her 
own,  a  secret,  a  hope,  and  yet  a  tremulous  anticipa 
tion  to  be  guarded  almost  from  herself.  It  colored 
everything ;  it  was  always,  whatever  she  was  do 
ing  or  saying,  present,  like  an  air  that  one  un 
consciously  hums  for  days  after  it  has  caught  his 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  155 

fancy.  Blessed  be  the  capacity  of  being  fond  and 
foolish!  If  that  letter  was  under  her  pillow  at 
night,  if  this  new  revelation  was  last  in  her 
thought  as  she  fell  asleep,  if  it  mingled  with  the 
song  of  the  birds  in  the  spring  morning,  as  some 
great  good  pervading  the  world,  is  there  anything 
distinguishing  in  such  an  experience  that  it  should 
be  dwelt  on  ?  And  if  there  were  questionings  and 
little  panics  of  doubt,  did  not  these  moments  also 
reveal  Margaret  to  herself  more  certainly  than  the 
hours  of  happy  dreaming  ? 

Questionings  no  doubt  there  were,  and,  later,  se 
rious  questionings;  for  habit  is  almost  as  strong 
as  love,  and  the  old  ways  of  life  and  of  thought 
will  reassert  themselves  in  a  thoughtful  mind,  and 
reason  will  insist  on  analyzing  passion  and  even 
hope. 

Gradually  the  home  life  and  e very-day  interests 
began  to  assume  their  natural  aspect  and  propor 
tions.  It  was  so  sweet  and  sane,  this  home  life,  in 
teresting  and  not  feverish.  There  was  time  for 
reading,  time  for  turning  over  things  in  the  mind, 
time  for  those  interchanges  of  feeling  and  of  ideas, 
by  the  fireside ;  she  was  not  required  to  be  always 
on  dress  parade,  in  mind  or  person,  always  keyed 
up  to  make  an  impression  or  receive  one ;  how 
much  wider  and  sounder  was  Morgan's  view  of  the 
world,  allowing  for  his  kindly  cynicism,  than  that 
prevalent  in  the  talk  where  she  had  lately  been ! 


156  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

How  sincere  and  hearty  and  free  ran  the  personal 
currents  in  this  little  neighborhood !  In  the  very 
fact  that  the  daily  love  and  affection  for  her  and 
interest  in  her  were  taken  for  granted  she  realized 
the  difference  between  her  position  here  and  that 
among  newer  friends  who  showed  more  open  ad 
miration. 

Little  by  little  there  was  a  readjustment.  In 
comparison,  the  city  life,  with  its  intensity  of  ac 
tion  and  feeling,  began  to  appear  distant,  not  so 
real,  mixed,  turbid,  even  frivolous.  And  was  Hen 
derson  a  vanishing  part  of  this  pageant  ?  Was  his 
figure  less  distinct  as  the  days  went  by  ?  It  could 
not  be  affirmed.  Love  is  such  a  little  juggler,  and 
likes,  now  and  again,  to  pretend  to  be  so  reasona 
ble  and  judicious.  There  were  no  more  letters. 
If  there  had  been  a  letter  now  and  then,  on  any 
excuse,  the  nexus  would  have  been  more  distinct : 
nothing  feeds  the  flame  exactly  like  a  letter;  it 
has  intention,  personality,  secrecy.  And  the  little 
excitement  of  it  grows.  Once  a  week  gets  to  be 
twice  a  week,  three  times,  four  times,  and  then  daily. 
And  then  a  day  without  a  letter  is  such  a  blank, 
and  so  full  of  fear !  What  can  have  happened  ? 
Is  he  ill  ?  Has  he  changed  ?  The  opium  habit  is 
nothing  to  the  letter  habit — between  lovers.  Not 
that  Margaret  expected  a  letter.  Indeed,  reason 
told  her  that  it  had  not  gone  so  far  as  that.  But 
she  should  see  him.  She  felt  sure  of  that.  And 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  157 

the  thought  filled  all  the  vacant  places  in  her  imag 
ination  of  the  future. 

And  yet  she  thought  she  was  seeing  him  more 
clearly  than  when  he  was  with  her.  Oh  wise 
young  woman !  She  fancied  she  was  deliberating, 
looking  at  life  with  great  prudence.  It  must  be 
one's  own  fault  if  one  makes  a  radical  mistake  in 
marriage.  She  was  watching  the  married  peo 
ple  about  her  with  more  interest — the  Morgans, 
our  own  household,  Mrs.  Fletcher ;  and  besides,  her 
aunt,  whose  even  and  cheerful  life  lacked  this  ex 
perience.  It  is  so  wise  to  do  this,  to  keep  one's 
feelings  in  control,  not  to  be  too  hasty !  Every 
body  has  these  intervals  of  prudence.  That  is  the 
reason  there  are  so  few  mistakes. 

I  dare  say  that  all  these  reflections  and  delib 
erations  in  the  maidenly  mind  were  almost  un 
conscious  to  herself;  certainly  unacknowledged. 
It  was  her  imagination  that  she  was  following, 
and  scarcely  a  distinct  reality  or  intention.  She 
thought  of  Henderson,  and  he  gave  a  certain  per 
sonality,  vivid  maybe,  to  that  dream  of  the  fut 
ure  which  we  all  in  youth  indulge ;  but  she  would 
have  shrunk  from  owning  this  even  to  herself. 
We  deceive  ourselves  as  often  as  we  deceive  oth 
ers.  Margaret  would  have  repudiated  with  some 
warmth  any  intimation  that  she  had  lost  her  heart, 
and  was  really  predicting  the  practical  possibilities 
of  that  loss,  and  she  would  have  been  quite  honest 


158  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

with  herself  in  thinking  that  she  was  still  mistress 
of  her  own  feeling.  Later  on  she  would  know, 
and  delight  to  confess,  that  her  destiny  was  fixed 
at  a  certain  hour,  at  a  certain  moment,  in  New 
York,  for  subsequent  events  would  run  back  to 
that  like  links  in  a  chain.  And  she  would  have 
been  right  and  also  wrong  in  that ;  for  but  for 
those  subsequent  events  the  first  impression  would 
have  faded,  and  been  taken  little  account  of  in 
her  life.  I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that 
men  and  women  act  more  upon  impulse  and  less 
upon  deep  reflection  and  self-examination  than  the 
analytic  novelists  would  have  us  believe,  duly 
weighing  motives  and  balancing  considerations ; 
and  that  men  and  women  know  themselves  much 
less  thoroughly  than  they  suppose  they  do.  There 
is  a  great  deal  of  exaggeration,  I  am  convinced, 
about  the  inward  struggles  and  self -conflicts.  The 
reader  may  know  that  Margaret  was  hopeless 
ly  in  love,  because  he  knows  everything ;  but 
that  charming  girl  would  have  been  shocked  and 
wounded  to  the  most  indignant  humiliation  if  she 
had  fancied  that  her  friends  thought  that.  Nay, 
more,  if  Henderson  had  at  this  moment  made  by 
letter  a  proposal  for  her  hand,  her  impulse  would 
have  been  to  repudiate  the  offer  as  unjustified  by 
anything  that  had  taken  place,  and  she  would  no 
doubt  have  obeyed  that  impulse. 

But  something  occurred,  while  she  was  in  this 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  159 

mood,  that  did  not  shock  her  maidenly  self-con 
sciousness,  nor  throw  her  into  antagonism,  but 
which  did  bring  her  face  to  face  with  a  possible 
reality.  And  this  was  simply  the  receipt  of  a  let 
ter  from  Henderson ;  not  a  love-letter — far  enough 
from  that — but  one  in  which  there  was  a  certain 
tone  and  intention  that  the  most  inexperienced 
would  recognize  as  possibly  serious.  Aside  from 
the  announcement  in  the  letter,  the  very  fact  of 
writing  it  was  significant,  conveying  an  intimation 
that  the  reader  might  be  interested  in  what  con 
cerned  the  writer.  The  letter  was  longer  than  it 
need  have  been,  for  one  thing,  as  if  the  pen,  once 
started  on  its  errand,  ran  on  con  amore.  The 
writer  was  coming  to  Brandon ;  business,  to  be 
sure,  was  the  excuse ;  but  why  should  it  have  been 
necessary  to  announce  to  her  a  business  visit  ? 
There  crept  into  the  letter  somehow  a  good  deal 
about  his  daily  life,  linked,  to  be  sure,  with  mention 
of  places  and  people  in  which  she  had  recently  an 
interest.  He  had  been  in  Washington,  and  there 
were  slight  sketches  of  well-known  characters  in 
Congress  and  in  the  Government ;  he  had  been 
in  Chicago,  and  even  as  far  as  Denver,  and  there 
were  little  pictures  of  scenes  that  might  amuse 
her.  There  was  no  special  mystery  about  all  this 
travel  and  hurrying  from  place  to  place,  but  it 
gave  Margaret  a  sense  of  varied  and  large  occupa 
tions  that  she  did  not  understand.  Through  it  all 


160  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

there  was  the  personality  that  had  been  recently 
so  much  in  her  thoughts.  He  was  coming.  That 
was  a  very  solid  fact  that  she  must  meet.  And 
she  did  not  doubt  that  he  was  coming  to  see  her, 
and  soon.  That  was  a  definite  and  very  different 
idea  from  the  dim  belief  that  he  would  come  some 
time.  He  had  signed  himself  hers  "  faithfully." 

It  was  a  letter  that  could  not  be  answered  like 
the  other  one ;  for  it  raised  questions  and  pros 
pects,  and  the  thousand  doubts  that  make  one  hesi 
tate  in  any  definite  step ;  and,  besides,  she  pleased 
herself  to  think  that  she  did  not  know  her  own 
mind.  He  had  not  asked  if  he  might  come;  he 
had  said  he  was  coming,  and  really  there  was  no 
answer  to  that.  Therefore  she  put  it  out  of  her 
mind — another  curious  mental  process  we  have  in 
dealing  with  a  matter  that  is  all  the  time  the  sub 
stratum  of  our  existence.  And  she  was  actually 
serious ;  if  she  was  reflective,  she  was  conscious  of 
being  judicially  reflective. 

But  in  this  period  of  calm  and  reflection  it  was 
impossible  that  a  woman  of  Margaret's  habits  and 
temperament  should  not  attempt  to  settle  in  her 
mind  what  that  life  was  yonder  of  which  she  had 
a  little  taste ;  what  was  the  career  that  Henderson 
had  marked  out  for  himself ;  what  were  his  prin 
ciples  ;  what  were  the  methods  and  reasons  of  his 
evident  success.  Endeavoring  in  her  clear  mind 
to  separate  the  person,  about  whose  personality  she 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  161 

was  so  fondly  foolish,  from  his  schemes,  which  she 
so  dimly  comprehended,  and  applying  to  his  some 
what  hazy  occupations  her  simple  moral  test,  were 
the  schemes  quite  legitimate?  Perhaps  she  did 
not  go  so  far  as  this ;  but  what  she  read  in  the 
newspapers  of  money-making  in  these  days  made 
her  secretly  uneasy,  and  she  found  herself  wishing 
that  he  were  definitely  practising  some  profession, 
or  engaged  in  some  one  solid  occupation. 

In  the  little  parliament  at  our  house,  where  ev 
erything,  first  and  last,  was  overhauled  and  brought 
to  judgment,  without,  it  must  be  confessed,  any  vis 
ible  effect  on  anything,  one  evening  a  common  "in 
cident"  of  the  day  started  the  conversation.  It 
was  an  admiring  account  in  a  newspaper  of  a  brill 
iant  operation  by  which  three  or  four  men  had 
suddenly  become  millionaires. 

"I  don't  see,"  said  my  Avife,  "any  mention  in 
this  account  of  the  thousands  who  have  been  re 
duced  to  poverty  by  this  operation." 

"  !S"o,"  said  Morgan  ;  "  that  is  not  interesting." 

"  But  it  would  be  very  interesting  to  me,"  Mrs. 
Fletcher  remarked.  "  Is  there  any  protection,  Mr. 
Morgan,  for  people  who  have  invested  their  little 
property  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  the  law." 

"  But  suppose  your  money  is  all  invested,  say  in 
a  railway,  and  something  goes  wrong,  where  are 
you  to  get  the  money  to  pay  for  the  law  that  will 
11 


162  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

give  you  restitution?  Is  there  anything  in  the 
State,  or  public  opinion,  or  anywhere,  that  will 
protect  your  interests  against  clever  swindling  ?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  Morgan  admitted.  "  You 
take  your  chance  when  you  let  your  money  go  out 
of  your  stocking.  You  see  there  are  so  many  peo 
ple  who  want  it.  You  can  put  it  in  the  ground." 

"  But  if  I  own  the  ground  I  put  it  in,  the  voters 
who  have  no  ground  will  tax  it  till  there  is  nothing 
left  for  me." 

"  That  is  equality." 

"But  it  isn't  equality,  for  somebody  gets  very 
rich  in  railways  or  lands,  while  we  lose  our  little 
all.  Don't  you  think  there  ought  to  be  a  public 
official  whose  duty  it  is  to  enforce  the  law  gra 
tis  which  I  cannot  afford  to  enforce  when  I  am 
wronged  ?" 

"The  difficulty  is  to  discover  whether  you  are 
wronged  or  only  unfortunate.  It  needs  a  lawyer 
to  find  that  out.  And  very  likely  if  you  are 
wronged,  the  wrong -doer  has  so  cleverly  gone 
round  the  law  that  it  needs  legislation  to  set  you 
straight,  and  that  needs  a  lobbyist,  whom  the  law 
yer  must  hire,  or  he  must  turn  lobbyist  himself. 
Now,  a  lawyer  costs  money,  and  a  lobbyist  is  one 
of  the  most  expensive  of  modern  luxuries;  but 
when  you  have  a  lawyer  and  lobbyist  in  one,  you 
will  find  it  economical  to  let  him  take  your  claim 
and  all  that  can  be  made  out  of  it,  and  not  bother 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  163 

you  any  more  about  it.  But  there  is  no  doubt 
about  the  law,  as  I  said.  You  can  get  just  as  much 
law  as  you  can  pay  for.  It  is  like  any  other  com 
modity." 

"  You  mean  to  say,"  I  asked,  "  that  the  lawyer 
takes  what  the  operator  leaves  ?" 

"Not  exactly.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  un 
reasonable  prejudice  against  lawyers.  They  must 
live.  There  is  no  nobler  occupation  than  the  ap 
plication  of  the  principle  of  justice  in  human  af 
fairs.  The  trouble  is  that  public  opinion  sustains 
the  operator  in  his  smartness,  and  estimates  the 
lawyer  according  to  his  adroitness.  If  we  only 
evoked  the  aid  of  a  lawyer  in  a  just  cause,  the  law 
yers  would  have  less  to  do.  Usually  and  naturally 
the  best  talent  goes  with  the  biggest  fees." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  my  wife,  musing  along, 
in  her  way,  on  parallel  lines,  "  that  there  ought  to 
be  a  limit  to  the  amount  of  property  one  man  can 
get  into  his  absolute  possession,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  methods  by  which  he  gets  it." 

"  That  never  yet  could  be  set,"  Morgan  replied. 
"  It  is  impossible  for  any  number  of  men  to  agree 
on  it.  I  don't  see  any  line  between  absolute  free 
dom  of  acquisition,  trusting  to  circumstances,  mis 
fortune,  and  death  to  knock  things  to  pieces,  and 
absolute  slavery,  which  is  communism." 

"  Do  you  believe,  Mr.  Morgan,  that  any  vast  fort 
une  was  ever  honestly  come  by  ?" 


164:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  That  is  another  question.  Honesty  is  such  a 
flexible  word.  If  you  mean  a  process  the  law  can 
not  touch,  yes.  If  you  mean  moral  consideration 
for  others,  I  doubt.  But  property  accumulates  by 
itself  almost.  Many  a  man  who  has  got  a  start 
by  an  operation  he  would  not  like  to  have  inves 
tigated,  and  which  he  tries  to  forget,  goes  on  to  be 
very  rich,  and  has  a  daily  feeling  of  being  more 
and  more  honorable  and  respectable,  using  only 
means  which  all  the  world  calls  fair  and  shrewd." 

"Mr.  Morgan,"  suddenly  asked  Margaret,  who 
had  been  all  the  time  an  uneasy  listener  to  the 
turn  the  talk  had  taken,  "what  is  railroad  wreck- 
ing?" 

"  Oh,  it  is  very  simple,  at  least  in  some  of  its 
forms.  The  i  wreckers,'  as  they  are  called,  fasten 
upon  some  railway  that  is  prosperous,  pays  divi 
dends,  pays  a  liberal  interest  on  its  bonds,  and 
has  a  surplus.  They  contrive  to  buy,  no  matter  at 
what  cost,  a  controlling  interest  in  it,  either  in  its 
stock  or  its  management.  Then  they  absorb  its 
surplus;  they  let  it  run  down  so  that  it  pays  no 
dividends,  and  by-and-by  cannot  even  pay  its  inter 
est  ;  then  they  squeeze  the  bondholders,  who  may 
be  glad  to  accept  anything  that  is  offered  out  of 
the  wreck,  and  perhaps  then  they  throw  the  prop 
erty  into  the  hands  of  a  receiver,  or  consolidate 
it  with  some  other  road  at  a  value  enormously 
greater  than  the  cost  to  them  in  stealing  it.  Hav- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  165 

ing  in  one  way  or  another  sucked  it  dry,  they  look 
round  for  another  road." 

"And  all  the  people  who  first  invested  lose  their 
money,  or  the  most  of  it  ?" 

"  Naturally,  the  little  fish  get  swallowed." 

"It  is  infamous,"  said  Margaret  —  "infamous! 
And  men  go  to  work  to  do  this,  to  get  other  peo 
ple's  property,  in  cool  blood  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  how  cool,  but  it  is  in  the  way  of 
business." 

"  What  is  the  difference  between  that  and  get 
ting  possession  of  a  bank  and  robbing  it  ?"  she  ask 
ed,  hot  with  indignation. 

"  Oh,  one  is  an  operation,  and  the  other  is  em 
bezzlement." 

"It  is  a  shame.  How  can  people  permit  it? 
Suppose,  Mrs.  Fletcher,  a  wrecker  should  steal  your 
money  that  way  ?" 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that." 

I  never  sa\v  Margaret  more  disturbed — out  of 
all  proportion,  I  thought,  to  the  cause  ;  for  we  had 
talked  a  hundred  times  about  such  things. 

"  Do  you  think  all  men  who  are  what  you  call 
operating  around  are  like  that  ?"  she  asked. 

"  Oh  no,"  I  said.  "  Probably  most  men  who  are 
engaged  in  what  is  generally  called  speculation  are 
doing  what  seems  to  them  a  perfectly  legitimate 
business.  It  is  a  common  way  of  making  a  fort- 


166  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  You  see,  Margaret,"  Morgan  explained,  "  when 
people  in  trade  buy  anything,  they  expect  to  sell  it 
for  more  than  they  gave  for  it." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  Margaret  replied,  more  calmly, 
"  that  a  great  deal  of  what  you  men  call  business 
is  just  trying  to  get  other  people's  money,  and 
doesn't  help  anybody  or  produce  anything." 

"  Oh,  that  is  keeping  up  the  circulation,  prevent 
ing  stagnation." 

"And  that  is  the  use  of  brokers  in  grain  and 
stocks  ?" 

"Partly.  They  are  commonly  the  agents  that 
others  use  to  keep  themselves  from  stagnation." 

"I  cannot  see  any  good  in  it,"  Margaret  persist 
ed.  "  No  one  seems  to  have  the  things  he  buys  or. 
sells.  I  don't  understand  it." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  a  woman,  if  you  will 
pardon  me  for  saying  it.  Men  don't  need  to  have 
things  in  hand;  business  is  done  on  faith  and 
credit,  and  when  a  transaction  is  over,  they  settle 
up  and  pay  the  difference,  without  the  trouble  of 
transporting  things  back  and  forth." 

"  I  know  you  are  chaffing  me,  Mr.  Morgan.  But 
I  should  call  that  betting." 

"  Oh,  there  is  a  risk  in  everything  you  do.  But 
you  see  it  is  really  paying  for  a  difference  of 
knowledge  or  opinion." 

"  Would  you  buy  stocks  that  way  ?" 

"  What  way  ?" 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  167 

"Why,  agreeing  to  pay  for  your  difference  of 
opinion,  as  you  call  it,  not  really  having  any  stock 
at  all." 

"I  never  did.  But  I  have  bought  stocks  and 
sold  them  pretty  soon,  if  I  could  make  anything  by 
the  sale.  All  merchants  act  on  that  principle." 

"  Well,"  said  Margaret,  dimly  seeing  the  sophis 
try  of  this, "  I  don't  understand  business  morality." 

"  Nobody  does,  Margaret.  Most  men  go  by  the 
law.  The  Golden  Rule  seems  to  be  suspended  by 
a  more  than  two-thirds  vote."  j 

It  was  by  such  inquiries,  leading  to  many  talks 
of  this  sort,  that  Margaret  was  groping  in  her 
mind  for  the  solution  of  what  might  become  to 
her  a  personal  question.  Consciously  she  did  not 
doubt  Henderson's  integrity  or  his  honor,  but  she 
was  perplexed  about  the  world  of  which  she  had 
recently  had  a  glimpse,  and  it  was  impossible  to 
separate  him  from  it.  Subjected  to  an  absolute 
ly  new  experience,  stirred  as  her  heart  had  never 
been  before  by  any  man — a  fact  which  at  once  ir 
ritated  and  pleased  her  —  she  was  following  the 
law  of  her  own  nature,  while  she  was  still  her  own 
mistress,  to  ponder  these  things  and  to  bring  her 
reason  to  the  guidance  of  her  feeling.  And  it  is 
probable  that  she  did  not  at  all  know  the  strength 
of  her  feeling,  or  have  any  conception  of  the  real 
power  of  love,  and  how  little  the  head  has  to  do 
with  the  great  passion  of  life,  the  intensity  of 


168  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

which  the  poets  have  never  in  the  least  exagger 
ated.  If  she  thought  of  Mr.  Lyon  occasionally,  of 
his  white  face  and  pitiful  look  of  suffering  that 
day,  she  could  not,  after  all,  make  it  real  or  per 
manently  serious.  Indeed,  she  was  sure  that  no 
emotion  could  so  master  her.  And  yet  she  look 
ed  forward  to  Henderson's  coming  with  a  sort  of 
nervous  apprehension,  amounting  almost  to  dread. 


XI. 

IT  was  the  susceptible  time  of  the  year  for 
plants,  for  birds,  for  maids :  all  innocent  natural 
impulses  respond  to  the  subtle  influence  of  spring. 
One  may  well  gauge  his  advance  in  selfishness, 
worldliness,  and  sin  by  his  loss  of  this  annual  sus 
ceptibility,  by  the  failure  of  this  sweet  appeal  to 
touch  his  heart.  One  must  be  very  far  gone  if 
some  note  of  it  does  not  for  a  moment  bring  back 
the  tenderest  recollections  of  the  days  of  joyous 
innocence. 

Even  the  city,  with  its  mass  of  stone  and  brick, 
rectangles,  straight  lines,  dust,  noise,  and  fever  of 
activity,  is  penetrated  by  this  divine  suggestion  of 
the  renewal  of  life.  You  can  scarcely  open  a  win 
dow  without  letting  in  a  breath  of  it ;  the  south 
wind,  the  twitter  of  a  sparrow,  the  rustle  of  leaves 
in  the  squares,  the  smell  of  the  earth  and  of  some 
struggling  plant  in  the  area,  the  note  of  a  distant 
hand-organ  softened  by  distance,  are  begetting  a 
longing  for  youth,  for  green  fields,  for  love.  As 
Carmen  walked  down  the  avenue  with  Mr.  Lyon 
on  a  spring  morning  she  almost  made  herself  be 
lieve  that  an  unworldly  life  with  this  simple- 


170  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

hearted  gentleman — when  he  should  come  into  his 
title  and  estates — would  be  more  to  her  liking  than 
the  most  brilliant  success  in  place  and  power  with 
Henderson.  Unfortunately  the  spring  influence 
also  suggested  the  superior  attractiveness  of  the 
only  man  who  had  ever  taken  her  shallow  fancy. 
And  unfortunately  the  same  note  of  nature  sug 
gested  to  Mr.  Lyon  the  contrast  of  this  artificial 
piece  of  loveliness  with  the  domestic  life  of  which 
he  dreamed. 

As  for  Margaret,  she  opened  her  heart  to  the 
spring  without  reserve.  It  was  May.  The  soft 
maples  had  a  purple  tinge,  the  chestnuts  showed 
color,  the  apple-trees  were  in  bloom  (all  the  air  was 
full  of  their  perfume),  the  blackbirds  were  chatter 
ing  in  convention  in  the  tall  oaks,  the  bright  leaves 
and  the  flowering  shrubs  were  alive  with  the  twit 
tering  and  singing  of  darting  birds.  The  soft,  fleecy 
clouds,  hovering  as  over  a  world  just  created,  seem 
ed  to  make  near  and  participant  in  the  scene  the 
delicate  blue  of  the  sky.  Margaret — I  remember 
the  morning — was  standing  on  her  piazza,  as  I 
passed  through  the  neighborhood  drive,  with  a 
i  spray  of  apple  -  blossoms  in  her  hand.  For  the 
moment  she  seemed  to  embody  all  the  maiden 
purity  of  the  scene,  all  its  promise.  I  said,  laugh 
ing* 

"  We  shall  have  to  have  you  painted  as  spring." 
"But  spring  isn't  painted  at  all,"  she  replied, 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  171 

holding  up  the  apple-blossoms,  and  coming  down 
the  piazza  with  a  dancing  step. 

"And  so  it  won't  last.  We  want  something  per 
manent,"  I  was  beginning  to  say,  when  a  carriage 
passed,  going  to  our  house.  "  I  think  that  must  be 
Henderson." 

"Ah!"  she  exclaimed.  Her  sunny  face  clouded 
at  once,  and  she  turned  to  go  in  as  I  hurried  away. 

It  was  Mr.  Henderson,  and  there  was  at  least 
pretence  enough  of  business  to  occupy  us,  with  Mr. 
Morgan,  the  greater  part  of  the  day.  It  was  not 
till  late  in  the  afternoon  that  Henderson  appeared 
to  remember  that  Margaret  was  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  and  spoke  of  his  intention  of  calling.  My 
wife  pointed  out  the  way  to  him  across  the  grounds, 
and  watched  him  leisurely  walking  among  the  trees 
till  he  was  out  of  sight. 

"What  an  agreeable  man  Mr.  Henderson  is!" 
she  said,  turning  to  me;  "most  companionable; 
and  yet — and  yet,  my  dear,  I'm  glad  he  is  not  my 
husband.  You  suit  me  very  well."  There  was  an 
air  of  conviction  about  this  remark,  as  if  it  were  the 
result  of  deep  reflection  and  comparison,  and  it  was 
emphasized  by  the  little  possessory  act  of  readjust 
ing  my  necktie — one  of  the  most  subtle  of  female 
flatteries. 

"  But  who  wanted  him  to  be  your  husband  ?"  I 
asked.  "  Married  women  have  the  oddest  habit  of 
going  about  the  world  picking  out  the  men  they 


172  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

would  not  like  to  have  married.  Do  they  need 
continually  to  justify  themselves  ?" 

"  No ;  they  congratulate  themselves.  You  never 
can  understand." 

"  I  confess  I  cannot.  My  first  thought  about  an 
attractive  woman  whose  acquaintance  I  make  is 
not  that  I  am  glad  I  did  not  marry  her." 

"  I  dare  say  not.  You  are  all  inconsistent,  you 
men.  But  you  are  the  least  so  of  any  man  in  the 
world,  I  do  believe." 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  whether  the  spring 
morning  seemed  more  or  less  glorious  to  Margaret 
when  she  went  in-doors,  but  its  serenity  was  gone. 
It  was  like  the  premonition  in  nature  of  a  change. 
She  put  the  apple  blossoms  in  water  and  placed  the 
jug  on  the  table,  turning  it  about  half  a  dozen 
times,  moving  her  head  from  side  to  side  to  get  the 
effect.  When  it  was  exactly  right,  she  said  to  her 
aunt,  who  sat  sewing  in  the  bay-window,  in  a  per 
fectly  indifferent  tone.  "  Mr.  Fairchild  just  passed 
here,  and  said  that  Mr.  Henderson  had  come." 

"Ah  !"  Her  aunt  did  not  lift  her  eyes  from  her 
work,  or  appear  to  attach  the  least  importance  to 
this  tremendous  piece  of  news.  Margaret  was  an 
noyed  at  what  seemed  to  her  an  assumed  indiffer 
ence.  Her  nerves  wrere  quivering  with  the  knowl 
edge  that  he  had  arrived,  that  he  was  in  the  next 
house,  that  he  might  be  here  any  moment — the  man 
who  had  entered  into  her  whole  life — and  the  an- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  173 

nouncement  was  no  more  to  her  aunt  than  if  she 
had  said  it  rained.  She  was  provoked  at  herself 
that  she  should  be  so  disturbed,  yes,  annoyed,  at 
his  proximity.  She  wished  he  had  not  come — not 
to-day,  at  any  rate.  She  looked  about  for  some 
thing  to  do,  and  began  to  rearrange  this  and  that 
trifle  in  the  sitting-room,  which  she  had  perfectly 
arranged  once  before  in  the  morning,  moving  about 
here  and  there  in  a  rather  purposeless  manner,  un 
til  her  aunt  looked  up  and  for  a  moment  followed 
her  movements  till  Margaret  left  the  room.  In  her 
own  chamber  she  sat  by  the  open  window  and  tried 
to  think,  but  there  was  no  orderly  mental  process ; 
in  vain  she  tried  to  run  over  in  her  mind  the  past 
month  and  all  her  reflections  and  wise  resolves. 
She  heard  the  call  of  the  birds,  she  inhaled  the 
odor  of  the  new  year,  she  was  conscious  of  all  that 
was  gracious  and  inviting  in  the  fresh  scene,  but  in 
her  sub-consciousness  there  was  only  one  thought 
— he  was  there,  he  was  coming.  She  took  up  her 
sewring,  but  the  needle  paused  in  the  stitch,  and  she 
found  herself  looking  away  across  the  lawn  to  the 
hills ;  she  took  up  a  book,  but  the  words  had  no 
meaning,  read  and  reread  them  as  she  would.  He 
is  there,  he  is  coming.  And  what  of  it  ?  Why 
should  she  be  so  disturbed?  She  was  uncommit 
ted,  she  was  mistress  of  her  own  actions.  Had  she 
not  been  coolly  judging  his  conduct  ?  She  despised 
herself  for  being  so  nervous  and  unsettled.  If  he 


174  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

was  coming,  why  did  he  not  come  ?  Why  was  he 
waiting  so  long  ?  She  arose  impatiently  and  went 
dowm-stairs.  There  wras  a  necessity  of  doing  some 
thing. 

"Is  there  anything  that  you  want  from  town, 
auntie  ?" 

"  Nothing  that  I  know  of.     Are  you  going  in  1" 

"  No,  unless  you  have  an  errand.  It  is  such  a 
fine  day  that  it  seems  a  pity  to  stay  in-doors." 

"Well,  I  would  walk  if  I  were  you."  But  she 
did  not  go;  she  went  instead  to  her  room.  He 
might  come  any  moment.  She  ought  not  to  run 
away;  and  yet  she  wished  she  were  away.  He 
said  he  was  coming  on  business.  Was  it  not,  then, 
a  pretence?  She  felt  humiliated  in  the  idea  of 
waiting  for  him.  if  the  business  were  not  a  pre 
tence. 

How  insensible  men  are !  What  a  mere  subordi 
nate  thing  to  them  in  life  is  the  love  of  a  woman ! 
Yes,  evidently  business  was  more  important  to  him 
than  anything  else.  He  must  know  that  she  was 
waiting;  and  she  blushed  to  herself  at  the  very 
possibility  that  he  should  think  such  a  thing.  She 
was  not  waiting.  It  wras  lunch-time.  She  excused 
herself.  In  the  next  moment  she  was  angry  that 
she  had  not  gone  down  as  usual.  It  was  time  for 
him  to  come.  He  would  certainly  come  immedi 
ately  after  lunch.  She  wrould  not  see  him.  She 
hoped  never  to  see  him.  She  rose  in  haste,  put  on 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  Wor-ld.  175 

her  hat,  put  it  on  carefully,  turning  and  returning 
before  the  glass,  selected  fresh  gloves,  and  ran 
down-stairs. 

"  I'm  going,  auntie,  for  a  walk  to  town." 

The  walk  was  a  long  one.  She  came  back  tired. 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon.  Her  aunt  was  quietly 
reading.  She  needed  to  ask  her  nothing :  Mr.  Hen 
derson  had  not  been  there.  Why  had  he  written 
to  her? 

"  Oh,  the  Fairchilds  want  us  to  come  over  to 
dinner,"  said  Miss  Forsythe,  without  looking  up. 

"  I  hope  you  will  go,  auntie.  I  sha'n't  mind  be 
ing  alone." 

"  Why  ?  It's  perfectly  informal.  Mr.  Henderson 
happens  to  be  there." 

"  I'm  too  stupid.  But  you  must  go.  Mr.  Hen 
derson,  in  New  York,  expressed  the  greatest  desire 
to  make  your  acquaintance." 

Miss  Forsythe  smiled.  "  I  suppose  he  has  come 
up  on  purpose.  But,  dear,  you  must  go  to  chaperon 
me.  It  would  hardly  be  civil  not  to  go,  when,  you 
knew  Mr.  Henderson  in  New  York,  and  the  Fair 
childs  Avant  to  make  it  agreeable  for  him." 

"Why,  auntie,  it  is  just  a  business  visit.  I'm  too 
tired  to  make  the  effort.  It  must  be  this  spring 
weather." 

Perhaps  it  was.  It  is  so  unfortunate  that  the 
spring,  which  begets  so  many  desires,  brings  the 
languor  that  defeats  their  execution.  But  there  is 


176  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

a  limit  to  the  responsibility  even  of  spring  for  a 
woman's  moods.  Just  as  Margaret  spoke  she  saw, 
through  the  open  window,  Henderson  coming  across 
the  lawn,  walking  briskly,  but  evidently  not  inat 
tentive  to  the  charm  of  the  landscape.  It  was  his 
springy  step,  his  athletic  figure,  and,  as  he  came 
nearer,  the  joyous  anticipation  in  his  face.  And  it 
was  so  sudden,  so  unexpected — the  vision  so  long 
looked  for !  There  was  no  time  for  flight,  had  she 
wanted  to  avoid  him ;  he  was  on  the  piazza ;  he 
was  at  the  open  door.  Her  hand  went  quickly  to 
her  heart  to  still  the  rapid  flutter,  which  might  be 
from  pain  and  might  be  from  joy — she  could  not 
tell.  She  had  imagined  their  possible  meeting  so 
many  times,  and  it  was  not  at  all  like  this.  She 
ought  to  receive  him  coldly,  she  ought  to  receive 
him  kindly,  she  ought  to  receive  him  indifferently. 
But  how  real  he  was,  how  handsome  he  was !  If 
she  could  have  obeyed  the  impulse  of  the  moment 
I  am  not  sure  but  she  Avould  have  fled,  and  cast  her 
self  face  downward  somewhere,  and  cried  a  little 
and  thanked  God  for  him.  He  was  in  the  room. 
In  his  manner  there  was  no  hesitation,  in  his  ex 
pression  no  uncertainty.  His  face  beamed  with 
pleasure,  and  there  was  so  much  open  admiration 
in  his  eyes  that  Margaret,  conscious  of  it  to  her 
heart's  core,  feared  that  her  aunt  would  notice  it. 
And  she  met  him  calmly  enough,  frankly  enough. 
The  quickness  with  which  a  woman  can  pull  her- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  ITT 

self  together  under  such  circumstances  is  testimony 
to  her  superior  fibre. 

"  I've  been  looking  across  here  ever  since  morn 
ing,"  he  said,  as  soon  as  the  hand-shaking  and  in 
troduction  were  over,  "and  I've  only  this  minute 
been  released."  There  was  no  air  of  apology  in  this, 
but  a  delicate  intimation  of  impatience  at  the  delay. 
And  still,  what  an  unconscious  brute  a  man  is  ! 

"  I  thought  perhaps  you  had  returned,"  said  Mar 
garet,  "  until  my  aunt  was  just  telling  me  Ave  were 
asked  to  dine  with  you." 

Henderson  gave  her  a  quick  glance.  Was  it  pos 
sible  she  thought  he  could  go  away  without  seeing 
her? 

"  Yes,  and  I  was  commissioned  to  bring  you  over 
when  you  are  ready." 

"  I  will  not  keep  you  waiting  long,  Mr.  Hender 
son,"  interposed  Miss  Forsythe,  out  of  the  good 
ness  of  her  heart.  "  My  niece  has  been  taking  a 
long  w^alk,  and  this  debilitating  spring  weather — 

"  Oh,  since  the  sun  has  gone  away,  I  think  I'm 
quite  up  to  the  exertion,  since  you  wish  it,  auntie  " 
— a  speech  that  made  Henderson  stare  again, 
wholly  unable  to  comprehend  the  reason  of  an  in 
direction  which  he  could  feel — he  who  had  been  all 
day  impatient  for  this  moment.  There  was  a  little 
talk  about  the  country  and  the  city  at  this  season, 
mainly  sustained  by  Miss  Forsythe  and  Henderson, 
and  then  he  wras  left  alone. 
12 


178  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  Of  course  you  should  go,  Margaret,"  said  her 
aunt,  as  they  went  up-stairs ;  "  it  would  not  be  at 
all  the  thing  for  me  to  leave  you  here.  And  what 
a  fine,  manly,  engaging  fellow  Mr.  Henderson  is !" 

"  Yes,  he  acts  very  much  like  a  man ;"  and  Mar 
garet  Avas  gone  into  her  room. 

Go?  There  was  not  force  enough  in  the  com 
monwealth,  without  calling  out  the  militia,  to  keep 
Margaret  from  going  to  the  dinner.  She  stopped 
a  moment  in  the  middle  of  her  chamber  to  think. 
She  had  almost  forgotten  how  he  looked — his  eyes, 
his  smile.  Dear  me !  how  the  birds  were  singing 
outside,  and  how  fresh  the  world  was !  And  she 
would  not  hurry.  He  could  wait.  No  doubt  he 
would  wait  now  any  length  of  time  for  her.  He 
Avas  in  the  house,  in  the  room  below,  perhaps  look 
ing  out  of  the  window,  perhaps  reading,  perhaps 
spying  about  at  her  knick-knacks — she  would  like 
to  look  in  at  the  door  a  moment  to  see  what  he  Avas 
doing.  Of  course  he  AAras  here  to  see  her,  and  all 
the  business  AA^as  a  pretext.  As  she  sat  a  moment 
upon  the  edge  of  her  bed  reflecting  Avhat  to  put  on, 
she  had  a  little  pang  that  she  had  been  doing  him 
injustice  in  her  thought.  But  it  AATas  only  for  an 
instant.  He  was  here.  She  was  not  in  the  least 
flurried.  Indeed,  her  mental  processes  Avere  never 
clearer  than  AAThen  she  settled  upon  her  simple  toi 
let,  made  as  it  Avas  in  every  detail  Avith  the  sure 
instinct  of  a  Avoman  Avho  dresses  for  her  lover. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  179 

Heavens !  what  a  miserable  clay  it  had  been,  what 
a  rebellious  day !  He  ought  to  be  punished  for  it 
somehow.  Perhaps  the  rose  she  put  in  her  hair 
was  part  of  the  punishment.  But  he  should  not  see 
how  happy  she  was ;  she  would  be  civil,  and  just  a 
little  reserved ;  it  was  so  like  a  man  to  make  a 
woman  wait  all  day  and  then  think  he  could  smooth 
it  all  over  simply  by  appearing. 

But  somehow  in  Henderson's  presence  these  lit 
tle  theories  of  conduct  did  not  apply.  He  was  too 
natural,  direct,  unaffected,  his  pleasure  in  being  with 
her  was  so  evident !  He  seemed  to  brush  aside  the 
little  defences  and  subterfuges.  There  was  this 
about  him  that  appeared  to  her  admirable,  and  in 
contrast  with  her  own  hesitating  indirection,  that 
whatever  he  wanted — money,  or  position,  or  the 
love  of  woman — he  went  straight  to  his  object  with 
unconsciousness  that  failure  was  possible.  Even  in 
walking  across  the  grounds  in  the  soft  sunset  light, 
and  chatting  easily,  their  relations  seemed  estab 
lished  on  a  most  natural  basis,  and  Margaret  found 
herself  giving  way  to  the  simple  enjoyment  of  the 
hour.  She  was  not  only  happy,  but  her  spirits  rose 
to  inexpressible  gayety,  which  ran  into  the  humor 
of  badinage  and  a  sort  of  spiritual  elation,  in  which 
all  things  seemed  possible.  Perhaps  she  recognized 
in  herself  what  Henderson  saw  in  her.  And  with  it 
all  there  was  an  access  of  tenderness  for  her  aunt,  the 
dear  thing  whose  gentle  life  appeared  so  colorless. 


180  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

I  had  never  seen  Margaret  so  radiant  as  at  the 
dinner ;  her  high  spirits  infected  the  table,  and  the 
listening  and  the  talking  were  of  the  best  that  the 
company  could  give.  I  remembered  it  afterwards, 
not  from  anything  special  that  Avas  said,  but  from 
its  flow  of  high  animal  spirits,  and  the  electric,  re 
sponsive  mood  every  one  was  in ;  no  topic  carried 
too  far,  and  the  chance  notes  of  seriousness  setting 
off  the  sparkling  comments  on  affairs.  Hender 
son's  talk  had  the  notable  flavor  of  direct  contact 
with  life,  and  very  little  of  the  speculative  and  re 
flective  tone  of  Morgan's,  who  was  always  general 
izing  and  theorizing  about  it.  He  had  just  come 
from  the  West,  and  his  off-hand  sketches  of  men 
had  a  special  cynicism,  not  in  the  least  condemna 
tory,  mere  good-natured  acceptance,  and  in  contrast 
to  Morgan's  moralizing  and  rather  pitying  cynicism. 
It  struck  me  that  he  did  not  believe  in  his  fellows 
as  much  as  Morgan  did ;  but  I  fancied  that  Marga 
ret  only  saw  in  his  attitude  a  tolerant  knowledge 
of  the  Avorld: 

"  Are  the  people  on  the  border  as  bad  as  they  are 
represented  T  she  asked. 

"  Certainly  not  much  Avorse  than  they  represent 
themselves,"  he  replied;  "I  suppose  the  difference 
is  that  men  feel  less  restraint  there." 

"It  is  something  more  than  that,"  added  Mor 
gan.  "  There  is  a  sort  of  drift-wood  of  adventure 
and  devil-may-care-ism  that  ciA'ilization  throws  in 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  181 

advance  of  itself ;  but  that  isn't  so  bad  as  the  slag 
it  manufactures  in  the  cities," 

"  I  remember  you  said,  Mr.  Morgan,  that  men  go 
West  to  get  rid  of  their  past,"  said  Margaret. 

"As  New  Yorkers  go  to  Europe  to  get  rid  of 
their  future?"  Henderson  inquired,  catching  the 
phrase. 

"  Yes  " — Morgan  turned  to  Margaret — "  doubt 
less  there  is  a  satisfaction  sometimes  in  placing  the 
width  of  a  continent  between  a  man  and  what 
he  has  done.  I've  thought  that  one  of  the  most 
popular  verses  in  the  Psalter,  on  the  border,  must 
be  the  one  that  says — you  will  know  if  I  quote  it 
right — '  Look  how  wide  also  the  East  is  from  the 
West ;  so  far  hath  He  set  our  sins  from  us.' " 

"That  is  dreadful,"  exclaimed  Margaret.  "To 
think  of  you  spending  your  time  in  the  service 
picking  out  passages  to  fit  other  people !" 

"  It  sounds  as  if  you  had  manufactured  it,"  was 
Henderson's  comment. 

"  No ;  that  quiet  Mr.  Lyon  pointed  it  out  to  me 
when  we  were  talking  about  Montana.  He  had 
been  there." 

"  By-the-way,  Mr.  Henderson,"  my  wife  asked, 
"  do  you  know  what  has  become  of  Mr.  Lyon  ?" 

"  I  believe  he  is  about  to  go  home." 

"  I  fancied  Miss  Eschelle  might  have  something 
to  say  about  that,"  Morgan  remarked. 

"  Perhaps,  if  she   were  asked.     But  Mr.  Lyon 


182  A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

appeared  rather  indifferent  to  American  attrac 
tions." 

Margaret  looked  quickly  at  Henderson  as  he  said 
this,  and  then  ventured,  a  little  slyly,  "  She  seemed 
to  appreciate  his  goodness." 

"  Yes ;  Miss  Eschelle  has  an  eye  for  goodness." 

This  was  said  without  change  of  countenance, 
but  it  convinced  the  listener  that  Carmen  was  un 
derstood. 

"  And  yet,"  said  Margaret,  with  a  little  air  of  te 
merity,  "  you  seem  to  be  very  good  friends." 

"  Oh,  she  is  very  charitable ;  she  sees,  I  suppose, 
what  is  good  in  me ;  and  I'll  spare  you  the  trouble 
of  remarking  that  she  must  necessarily '  be  very 
sharp-sighted." 

''  And  I'm  not  going  to  destroy  your  illusion  by 
telling  you  her  real  opinion  of  you,"  Margaret  re 
torted. 

Henderson  begged  to  know  what  it  was,  but  Mar 
garet  evaded  the  question  by  new  raillery.  What 
did  she  care  at  the  moment  what  Carmen  thought 
of  Henderson  ?  What  did  either  of  them  care  what 
they  were  saying,  so  long  as  there  wras  some  per 
sonal  flavor  in  the  talk !  Was  it  not  enough  to  talk 
to  each  other,  to  see  each  other  ? 

As  we  sat  afterwards  upon  the  piazza  with  our 
cigars,  inhaling  the  odor  of  the  apple  blossoms,  and 
yielding  ourselves,  according  to  our  age,  to  the  in 
fluence  of  the  mild  night,  Margaret  was  in  the  high 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  183 

spirits  which  accompany  the  expectation  of  bliss, 
without  the  sobering  effect  of  its  responsibility. 
Love  itself  is  very  serious,  but  the  overture  is  full 
of  freakish  gayety.  And  it  Avas  all  gayety  that 
night.  We  all  constituted  ourselves  a  guard  of 
honor  to  Miss  Forsythe  and  Margaret  when  they 
went  to  their  cottage,  and  there  was  a  merry 
leave-taking  in  the  moonlight.  To  be  sure,  Mar 
garet  walked  with  Henderson,  and  they  lagged  a 
little  behind,  but  I  had  no  reason  to  suppose  that 
they  were  speaking  of  the  stars,  or  that  they  raised 
the  ordinary  question  of  their  being  inhabited.  I 
doubt  if  they  saw  the  stars  at  all.  How  one  re 
members  little  trifles,  that  recur  like  the  gay  bird 
notes  of  the  opening  scenes  that  are  repeated  in 
the  tragedy  of  the  opera !  I  can  see  Margaret  now, 
on  some  bantering  pretext,  running  back,  after  we 
had  said  good-night,  to  give  Henderson  the  blush- 
rose  she  had  worn  in  her  hair.  How  charming  the 
girl  was  in  this  freakish  action ! 

"Do  you  think  he  is  good  enough  for  her?" 
asked  my  wife,  when  we  were  alone. 

"Who  is  good  enough  for  whom  ?"  I  said,  a  yawn 
revealing  my  want  of  sentiment. 

"  Don't  be  stupid.  You  are  not  so  blind  as  you 
pretend." 

"  Well,  if  I  am  not  so  blind  as  I  pretend,  though 
I  did  not  pretend  to  be  blind,  I  suppose  that  is 
mainly  her  concern." 


184:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  But  I  wish  she  had  cared  for  Lyon." 

"  Perhaps  Lyon  did  not  care  for  her,"  I  sug 
gested. 

"You  never  see  anything.  Lyon  was  a  noble 
fellow." 

"  I  didn't  deny  that.  But  how  was  I  to  know 
about  Lyon,  my  dear  ?  I  never  heard  you  say  that 
you  were  glad  he  wasn't  your  husband." 

u  Don't  be  silly.  I  think  Henderson  has  very  se 
rious  intentions." 

"  I  hope  he  isn't  frivolous,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  you  are.  It  isn't  a  joking  matter — and 
you  pretend  to  be  so  fond  of  Margaret !" 

"  So  that  is  another  thing  I  pretend  ?  What  do 
you  want  me  to  do  ?  Which  one  do  you  want  me 
to  make  my  enemy  by  telling  him  or  her  that  the 
other  isn't  good  enough  ?" 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  do  anything,  except  to  be 
reasonable,  and  sympathize." 

"  Oh,  I  sympathize  all  round.  I  assure  you  I've 
no  doubt  you  are  quite  right."  And  in  this  way  I 
crawled  out  of  the  discussion,  as  usual. 

What  a  pretty  simile  it  is,  comparing  life  to  a 
river,  because  rivers  are  so  different!  There  are 
the  calm  streams  that  flow  eagerly  from  the  youth 
ful  sources,  join  a  kindred  flood,  and  go  placidly  to 
the  sea,  only  broadening  and  deepening  and  get 
ting  very  muddy  at  times,  but  without  a  rapid  or  a 
fall.  There  are  others  that  flow  carelessly  in  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  185 

upper  sunshine,  begin  to  ripple  and  dance,  then  run 
swiftly,  and  rush  into  rapids  in  which  there  is  no 
escape  (though  friends  stand  weeping  and  implor 
ing  on  the  banks)  from  the  awful  plunge  of  the 
cataract.  Then  there  is  the  tumult  and  the  seeth 
ing,  the  exciting  race  and  rage  through  the  canon, 
the  whirlpools  and  the  passions  of  love  and  revela 
tions  of  character,  and  finally,  let  us  hope,  the  hap 
py  emergence  into  the  lake  of  a  serene  life.  And 
the  more  interesting  rivers  are  those  that  have  tu 
mults  and  experiences. 

I  knew  well  enough  before  the  next  day  was  over 
that  it  was  too  late  for  the  rescue  of  Margaret  or 
Henderson.  They  were  in  the  rapids,  and  would 
have  rejected  any  friendly  rope  thrown  to  draw 
them  ashore.  And  notwithstanding  the  doubts  of 
my  wife,  I  confess  that  I  had  so  much  sympathy 
with  the  genuineness  of  it  that  I  enjoyed  this  shock 
of  two  strong  natures  rushing  to  their  fate.  Was  it 
too  sudden  ?  Do  two  living  streams  hesitate  Avhen 
they  come  together?  When  they  join  they  join, 
and  mingle  and  reconcile  themselves  afterwards. 
It  is  only  canals  that  flow  languidly  in  parallel 
lines,  and  meet,  if  they  meet  at  all,  by  the  orderly 
contrivance  of  a  lock. 

In  the  morning  the  two  were  off  for  a  stroll. 
There  is  a  hill  from  which  a  most  extensive  pros 
pect  is  had  of  the  city,  the  teeming  valley,  with  a 
score  of  villages  and  innumerable  white  spires,  of 


186  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

forests  and  meadows  and  broken  mountain  ranges. 
It  was  a  view  that  Margaret  the  night  before  had 
promised  to  show  Henderson,  that  he  might  see 
what  to  her  was  the  loveliest  landscape  in  the 
world.  Whether  they  saw  the  view  I  do  not  know. 
But  I  know  the  rock  from  which  it  is  best  seen,  and 
could  fancy  Margaret  sitting  there,  with  her  face 
turned  towards  it  and  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap, 
and  Henderson  sitting,  half  turned  away  from  it, 
looking  in  her  face.  There  is  an  apple  orchard  just 
below.  It  was  in  bloom,  and  all  the  invitation  of 
spring  was  in  the  air.  That  he  saw  all  the  glorious 
prospect  reflected  in  her  mobile  face  I  do  not  doubt 
— all  the  nobility  and  tenderness  of  it.  If  I  knew 
the  faltering  talk  in  that  hour  of  growing  confi 
dence  and  expectation,  I  would  not  repeat  it. 

Henderson  lunched  at  the  Forsythe's,  and  after 
lunch  he  had  some  talk  with  Miss  Forsythe.  It 
must  have  been  of  an  exciting  nature  to  her,  for, 
immediately  after,  that  good  woman  came  over  in 
a  great  flutter,  and  was  closeted  with  my  wife,  who 
at  the  end  of  the  interview  had  an  air  of  mysterious 
importance.  It  was  evidently  a  woman's  day,  and 
my  advice  was  not  wanted,  even  if  my  presence  was 
tolerated.  All  I  heard  my  wife  say  through  the 
opening  door,  as  the  consultation  ended,  was,  "  I 
hope  she  knows  her  own  mind  fully  before  any 
thing  is  decided." 

As  to  the  objects  of  this  anxiety,  they  were  upon 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  187 

the  veranda  of  the  cottage,  quite  unconscious  of  the 
necessity  of  digging  into  their  own  minds.  He  was 
seated,  and  she  was  leaning  against  the  railing  on 
which  the  honeysuckle  climbed,  pulling  a  flower  in 
pieces. 

"  It  is  such  a  short  time  I  have  known  you,"  she 
was  saying,  as  if  in  apology  for  her  own  feeling. 

"  Yes,  in  one  way  ;"  and  he  leaned  forward,  and 
broke  his  sentence  with  a  little  laugh.  "  I  think 
I  must  have  known  you  in  some  pre- existent 
state." 

"Perhaps.  And  yet,  in  another  way,  it  seems 
long — a  whole  month,  you  know."  And  the  girl 
laughed  a  little  in  her  turn. 

"It  was  the  longest  month  I  ever  knew,  after 
you  left  the  city." 

"Was  it?  I  oughtn't  to  have  said  that  first. 
But  do  you  know,  Mr.  Henderson,  you  seem  totally 
different  from  any  other  man  I  ever  knew."  That 
this  was  a  profound  and  original  discovery  there 
could  be  no  doubt,  from  the  conviction  with  which 
it  was  announced.  "  I  felt  from  the  first  that .  I 
could  trust  you." 

"  I  wish  " — and  there  was  genuine  feeling  in  the 
tone — "  I  were  worthier  of  such  a  generous  trust." 

There  was  a  wistful  look  in  her  face — timidity, 
self-depreciation,  worship — as  Henderson  rose  and 
stood  near  her,  and  she  looked  up  while  he  took  the 
broken  flower  from  her  hand.  There  was  but  one 


188  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

answer  to  this,  and  in  spite  of  the  open  piazza  and 
the  all-observant,  all-revealing  day,  it  might  have 
been  given  ;  but  at  the  moment  Miss  Forsythe  was 
seen  hurrying  towards  them  through  the  shrub 
bery.  She  came  straight  to  where  they  stood,  with 
an  air  of  Kew  England  directness  and  determina 
tion.  One  hand  she  gave  to  Henderson,  the  other 
to  Margaret.  She  essayed  to  speak,  but  tears  were 
in  her  eyes,  and  her  lips  trembled ;  the  words  would 
not  come.  She  regarded  them  for  an  instant  with 
all  the  overflowing  affection  of  a  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury  of  repression,  and  then  quickly  turned  and 
went  in.  In  a  moment  they  followed  her.  Heaven 
go  with  them ! 

After  Henderson  had  made  his  hasty  adieus  at 
our  house  and  gone,  before  the  sun  was  down,  Mar 
garet  came  over.  She  came  swiftly  into  the  room, 
gave  me  a  kiss  as  I  rose  to  greet  her,  with  a  de 
lightful  impersonality,  as  if  she  owed  a  debt  some 
where  and  must  pay  it  at  once — we  men  who  are 
so  much  left  out  of  these  affairs  have  occasionally 
to  thank  Heaven  for  a  merciful  moment — seized 
my  wife,  and  dragged  her  to  her  room. 

"  I  couldn't  wait  another  moment,"  she  said,  as 
she  threw  herself  on  my  wife's  bosom  in  a  passion 
of  tears.  "I  am  so  happy !  he  is  so  noble,  and  I 
love  him  so!"  And  she  sobbed  as  if  it  were  the 
greatest  calamity  in  the  world.  And  then,  after  a 
little,  in  reply  to  a  question— for  women  are  never 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  189 

more  practical  than  in  such  a  crisis :  "  Oh  no 
net  for  a  long,  long,  long  time.  Xot  before  au 
tumn." 

And  the  girl  looked,  through  her  glad  tears,  as  if 
she  expected  to  be  admired  for  this  heroism.  And 
I  have  no  doubt  she  was. 


xn. 

WELL,  that  was  another  success.  The  Avorld  is 
round,  and  like  a  ball  seems  swinging  in  the  air, 
and  swinging  very  pleasantly,  thought  Henderson, 
as  he  stepped  on  board  the  train  that  evening.  The 
world  is  truly  what  you  make  it,  and  Henderson 
was  determined  to  make  it  agreeable.  His  philos 
ophy  was  concise,  and  might  be  hung  up  as  a  mot 
to  :  Get  all  you  can,  and  don't  fret  about  what  you 
cannot  get. 

He  went  into  the  smoking  compartment,  and  sat 
musing  by  the  window  for  some  time  before  he  lit 
his  cigar,  feeling  a  glow  of  happiness  that  was  new 
in  his  experience.  The  country  was  charming  at 
twilight,  but  he  was  little  conscious  of  that.  "What 
he  saw  distinctly  was.  Margaret's  face,  trustful  and 
wistful,  looking  up  into  his  as  she  bade  him  good- 
by.  What  he  was  vividly  conscious  of  was  being 
followed,  enveloped,  by  a  woman's  love. 

"  You  will  write,  dear,  the  moment  you  get  there, 
will  you  not?  I  am  so  afraid  of  accidents,"  she 
had  said. 

"  Why,  I  will  telegraph,  sweet,"  he  had  replied, 
quite  gayly. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  191 

"  Will  you  ?  Telegraph  ?  I  never  had  that  sort 
of  a  message."  It  seemed  a  very  wonderful  thing 
that  he  should  use  the  public  wire  for  this  purpose, 
and  she  looked  at  him  with  new  admiration, 

"  Are  you  timid  about  the  train  ?"  he  asked. 

"  No.  I  never  think  of  it.  I  never  thought  of 
it  for  myself ;  but  this  is  different." 

"Oh,  1  see."  He  put  his  arm  round  her  and 
looked  down  into  her  eyes.  This  was  a  humorous 
suggestion  to  him,  who  spent  half  his  time  on  the 
trains.  "  I  think  I'll  take  out  an  accident  pol 
icy." 

"  Don't  say  that.  But  you  men  are  so  reckless. 
Promise  you  won't  stand  on  the  platform,  and 
won't  get  off  while  the  train  is  in  motion,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  directions,"  she  said,  laughing  a  lit 
tle  with  him ;  "  and  you  will  be  careful  ?" 

"  I'll  take  such  care  of  myself  as  I  never  did  be 
fore,  I  promise.  I  never  felt  of  so  much  conse 
quence  in  my  life." 

"You'll  think  me  silly.  But  you  know,  don't 
you,  dear  ?"  She  put  a  hand  on  each  shoulder,  and 
pushing  him  back,  studied  his  face.  "  You  are  all 
the  world.  And  only  to  think,  day  before  yester 
day,  I  didn't  think  of  the  trains  at  all." 

To  have  one  look  like  that  from  a  woman !  To 
carry  it  with  him !  Henderson  still  forgot  to  light 
his  cigar. 

"  Hello,  Kodney !" 


192  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  Ah,  Hollowell !  1  thought  you  were  in  Kansas 
City." 

The  new-comer  was  a  man  of  middle  age,  thick 
set,  with  rounded  shoulders,  deep  chest,  heavy  neck, 
iron-gray  hair  close  cut,  gray  whiskers  cropped  so 
as  to  show  his  strong  jaw,  blue  eyes  that  expressed 
at  once  resolution  and  good-nature. 

"  Well,  how's  things  ?  Been  up  to  fix  the  Legis 
lature  ?" 

"  No ;  Perkins  is  attending  to  that,"  said  Hen 
derson,  rather  indifferently,  like  a  man  awakened 
out  of  a  pleasant  dream.  "  Don't  seem  to  need 
much  fixing.  The  public  are  fond  of  parallels." 

Hollowell  laughed.  "  I  guess  that's  so — till  they 
get  'em." 

"  Or  don't  get  them,"  Henderson  added.  And 
then  both  laughed. 

"It  looks  as  if  it  would  go  through  this  time. 
Bemis  says  the  C.  D.'s  badly  scared.  They'll  have 
to  come  down  lively." 

"I  shouldn't  wonder.  By -the -way,  look  in  to 
morrow.  I've  got  something  to  show  you." 

Henderson  lit  his  cigar,  and  they  both  puffed  in 
silence  for  some  moments. 

"  By-the-way,  did  I  ever  show  you  this  ?"  Hol 
lowell  took  from  his  breast-pocket  a  handsome 
morocco  case,  and  handed  it  to  his  companion.  "  I 
never  travel  without  that.  It's  better  than  an  ac 
cident  policy." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  193 

Henderson  unfolded  the  case,  and  saw  seven  pho 
tographs —  a  showy-looking  handsome  woman  in 
lace  and  jewels,  and  six  children,  handsome  like 
their  mother,  the  whole  group  with  the  photo 
graphic  look  of  prosperity. 

Henderson  looked  at  it  as  if  it  had  been  a  mirror 
of  his  own  destiny,  and  expressed  his  admiration. 

"Yes,  it's  hard  to  beat,"  Hollowell  confessed, 
with  a  soft  look  in  his  face.  "It's  not  for  sale. 
Seven  figures  wouldn't  touch  it."  He  looked  at  it 
lovingly  before  he  put  it  up,  and  then  added : 
"Well,  there's  a  figure  for  each,  Rodney,  and  a  big 
nest-egg  for  the  old  woman  besides.  There's  noth 
ing  like  it,  old  man.  You'd  better  come  in."  And 
he  put  his  hand  affectionately  on  Henderson's  knee. 

Jeremiah  Hollowell — commonly  known  as  Jerry 
—was  a  remarkable  man.  Thirty  years  ago  he  had 
come  to  the  city  from  Maine  as  a  "hand"  on  a 
coast  schooner,  obtained  employment  in  a  railroad 
yard,  then  as  a  freight  conductor,  gone  West,  be 
come  a  contractor,  in  which  position  a  lucky  hit 
set  him  on  the  road  of  the  unscrupulous  accumula 
tion  of  property.  He  was  now  a  railway  magnate, 
the  president  of  a  system,  a  manipulator  of  dexter 
ity  and  courage.  All  this  would  not  have  come 
about  if  his  big  head  had  not  been  packed  with 
common-sense  brains,  and  he  had  not  had  uncom 
mon  will  and  force  of  character.  Success  had  de 
veloped  the  best  side  of  him,  the  family  side ;  and 
13 


194  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

the  worst  side  of  him — a  brutal  determination  to 
increase  his  big  fortune.  He  was  not  hampered  by 
any  scruples  in  business,  but  he  had  the  good-sense 
to  deal  squarely  with  his  friends  when  he  had  dis 
tinctly  agreed  to  do  so. 

Henderson  did  not  respond  to  the  matrimonial 
suggestion  ;  it  was  not  possible  for  him  to  vulgarize 
.his  own  affair  by  hinting  it  to  such  a  man  as  Hol 
lo  well  ;  but  they  soon  fell  into  serious  talk  about 
schemes  in  which  they  were  both  interested.  This 
talk  so  absorbed  Henderson  that  after  they  had 
reached  the  city  he  had  walked  some  blocks  tow 
ards  his  lodging  before  he  recalled  his  promise 
about  the  message.  On  his  table  he  found  a  note 
from  Carmen  bidding  him  to  dinner  informally— an 
invitation  which  he  had  no  difficulty  in  declining 
on  account  of  a  previous  engagement.  And  then 
he  went  to  his  club,  and  passed  a  cheerful  evening. 
Why  not  ?  There  was  nothing  melancholy  about 
the  young  fellows  in  the  smoking-room,  who  liked 
a  good  story  and  the  latest  gossip,  and  were  at 
tracted  to  the  society  of  Henderson,  who  was  open- 
handed  and  full  of  animal  spirits,  and  above  all 
had  a  reputation  for  success,  and  for  being  on  the 
inside  of  affairs.  There  is  nowhere  else  so  much 
wisdom  and  such  understanding  of  life  as  in  a  city 
club  of  young  fellows,  who  have  their  experience 
still,  for  the  most  part,  before  them.  Henderson 
was  that  night  in  great  " force" — as  the  phrase 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  195 

is.  His  companions  thought  he  had  made  a  lucky 
turn,  and  he  did  not  tell  them  that  he  had  won  the 
love  of  the  finest  girl  in  the  world,  who  was  at 
that  moment  thinking  of  him  as  fondly  as  he  was 
thinking  of  her — but  this  was  the  subconsciousness 
of  his  gayety.  Late  at  night  he  wrote  her  a  long 
letter — an  honest  letter  of  love  and  admiration, 
which  warmed  into  the  tenderness  of  devotion  as  it 
went  on ;  a  letter  that  she  never  parted  with  all 
her  life  long ;  but  he  left  a  description  of  the  lone 
liness  of  his  evening  without  her  to  her  imagina 
tion.  \ 

It  was  for  Margaret  also  a  happy  evening,  but 
not  a  calm  one,  and  not  gay.  She  was  swept  away 
by  a  flood  of  emotions.  She  wanted  to  be  alone, 
to  think  it  over,  every  item  of  the  short  visit, 
every  look,  every  tone.  Was  it  all  true  ?  The  great 
change  made  her  tremble  :  of  the  future  she  dared 
scarcely  think.  She  was  restless,  but  not  restless 
as  before ;  she  could  not  be  calm  in  such  a  great 
happiness.  And  then  the  wonder  of  it,  that  he 
should  choose  her  of  all  others — he  who  knew  the 
world  so  well,  and  mast  have  known  so  many 
women.  She  followed  him  on  his  journey,  think 
ing  what  he  was  doing  now,  and  now,  and  now. 
She  would  have  given  the  world  to  see  him  just  for 
a  moment,  to  look  in  his  eyes  and  be  sure  again,  to 
have  him  say  that  little  word  once  more :  there 
was  a  kind  of  pain  in  her  heart,  the  separation  was 


196  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

so  cruel ;  it  had  been  over  two  hours  now.  More 
than  once  in  the  evening  she  ran  down  to  the  sit 
ting-room,  where  her  aunt  was  pretending  to  be 
absorbed  in  a  book,  to  kiss  her,  to  pet  her,  to 
smooth  her  grayish  hair  and  pat  her  cheek,  and 
get  her  to  talk  about  her  girlhood  days.  She  was 
so  happy  that  tears  were  in  her  eyes  half  the  time. 
At  nine  o'clock  there  was  a  pull  at  the  bell  that 
threatened  to  drag  the  wire  out,  and  an  insignifi 
cant  little  urchin  appeared  writh  a  telegram,  which 
frightened  Miss  Forsythe,  and  seemed  to  Margaret 
to  drop  out  of  heaven.  Such  an  absurd  thing  to  do 
at  night,  said  the  aunt,  and  then  she  kissed  Mar 
garet,  and  laughed  a  little,  and  declared  that  things 
had  come  to  a  queer  pass  when  people  made  love 
by  telegraph.  There  Avasn't  any  love  in  the  tele 
gram,  Margaret  said ;  but  she  knew  better — the 
sending  word  of  his  arrival  was  a  marvellous  exhi 
bition  of  thoughtfulness  and  constancy. 

And  then  she  led  her  aunt  on  to  talk  of  Mr. 
Henderson,  to  give  her  impression,  how  he  looked, 
what  she  really  thought  of  him,  and  so  on,  and  so 
on.  There  was  not  much  to  say,  but  it  could  be 
said  over  and  over  again  in  various  ways.  It  was 
the  one  night  of  the  world,  and  her  overwrought 
feeling  sought  relief.  It  would  not  be  so  again.  She 
would  be  more  reticent  and  more  coquettish  about 
her  lover,  but  now  it  was  all  so  new  and  strange. 

That  night  when  the  girl  went  to  sleep  the  tele- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  197 

gram  was  under  her  pillow,  and  it  seemed  to 
throb  with  a  thousand  messages,  as  if  it  felt  the 
pulsation  of  the  current  that  sent  it. 

The  prospective  marriage  of  the  budding  million 
aire  Rodney  Henderson  was  a  society  paper  item 
in  less  than  a  week — the  modern  method  of  pub 
lishing  the  banns.  This  was  accompanied  by  a 
patronizing  reference  to  the  pretty  school-ma'am, 
who  was  complimented  upon  her  good -fortune  in 
phrases  so  neatly  turned  as  to  give  Henderson  the 
greatest  offence,  and  leave  him  no  remedy,  since 
nothing  could  have  better  suited  the  journal  than 
further  notoriety.  He  could  not  remember  that 
he  had  spoken  of  it  to  any  one  except  the  Eschelles, 
to  whom  his  relations  made  the  communication  a 
necessity,  and  he  suspected  Carmen,  without,  how 
ever,  guessing  that  she  was  a  habitual  purveyor  of 
the  town  gossiper. 

"  It  is  a  shameful  impertinence,"  she  burst  out, 
introducing  the  subject  herself,  when  he  called  to 
see  her.  "  I  would  horsewhip  the  editor."  Her 
indignation  was  so  genuine,  and  she  took  his  side 
with  such  warm  good  comradeship,  that  his  suspi 
cions  vanished  for  a  moment. 

"What  good?"  he  answered,  cooling  down  at 
the  sight  of  her  rage.  "  It  is  true,  we  are  to  be 
married,  and  she  has  taught  school.  I  can't  drag 
her  name  into  a  row  about  it.  Perhaps  she  never 
will  see  it." 


198  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

k<  Oh  dear !  dear  me !  what  have  I  done  ?"  the 
girl  cried,  with  an  accent  of  contrition.  "  I  never 
thought  of  that.  I  was  so  angry  that  I  cut  it  out 
and  put  it  in  the  letter  that  was  to  contain  nothing 
but  congratulations,  and  told  her  how  perfectly 
outrageous  I  thought  it,  Ho\v  stupid !"  and  there 
was  a  world  of  trouble  in  her  big  dark  eyes,  while 
she  looked  up  penitently,  as  if  to  ask  his  forgive 
ness  for  a  great  crime. 

"  Well,  it  cannot  be  helped,"  Henderson  said, 
with  a  little  touch  of  sympathy  for  Carmen's  grief. 
"  Those  who  know  her  will  think  it  simply  mali 
cious,  and  the  others  will  not  think  of  it  a  second 
time." 

"  But  I  cannot  forgive  myself  for  my  stupidity. 
I'm  not  sure  but  I'd  rather  you'd  think  me  wicked 
than  stupid,"  she  continued,  with  the  smile  in  her 
eyes  that  most  men  found  attractive.  "  I  confess 
— is  that  very  bad  ?—  that  I  feel  it  more  for  you 
than  for  her.  But "  (she  thought  she  saw  a  shade 
in  his  face)  "  I  warn  you,  if  you  are  not  very  nice, 
I  shall  transfer  my  affections  to  her." 

The  girl  was  in  her  best  mood,  with  the  manner 
of  a  confiding,  intimate  friend.  She  talked  about 
Margaret,  but  not  too  much,  and  a  good  deal  more 
about  Henderson  and  his  future,  not  laying  too 
great  stress  upon  the  marriage,  as  if  it  were,  in 
fact,  only  an  incident  in  his  career,  contriving  al 
ways  to  make  herself  appear  as  a  friend,  who 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  199 

hadn't  many  illusions  or  much  romance,  to  be  sure, 
but  who  could  always  be  relied  on  in  any  mood  or 
any  perplexity,  and  wouldn't  be  frightened  or  very 
severe  at  any  confidences.  She  posed  as  a  woman 
who  could  make  allowances,  and  whose  friendship 
would  be  no  check  or  hinderance.  This  was  con 
veyed  in  manner  as  much  as  in  words,  and  put 
Henderson  quite  at  his  ease.  He  was  not  above 
"^  the  weakness  of  liking  the  comradeship  of  a  wom 
an  of  whom  lie  was  not  afraid,  a  woman  to  whom 
he  could  say  anything,  a  woman  who  could  make 
allowances.  Perhaps  he  was  hardly  conscious  of 
this.  He  knew  Carmen  better  than  she  thought 
he  knew  her,  and  he  couldn't  approve  of  her  as  a 
wife ;  and  yet  the  fact  was  that  she  never  gave 
him  any  moral  worries. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  when  the  talk  drifted  that  way, 
"  the  chrysalis  earl  has  gone.  I  think  that  mam 
ma  is  quite  inconsolable.  She  says  she  doesn't  un 
derstand  girls,  or  men,  or  anything,  these  days." 

"  Do  you  ?"  asked  Henderson,  lightly. 

"I?  No.  I'm  an  agnostic — except  in  religion. 
Have  you  got  it  into  your  head,  my  friend,  that  I 
ever  fancied  Mr.  Lyon  rC ' 

"Not  for  himself-  "  began  Henderson,  mischiev 
ously. 

"  That  will  do."  She  stopped  him.  "  Or  that 
he  ever  had  any  intention— 

"  I  don't  see  how  he  could  resist  such — " 


200  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World, 

"  Stuff!  See  here,  Mr.  Rodney!"  The  girl 
sprang  up,  seized  a  plaque  from  the  table,  held  it 
aloft  in  one  hand,  took  half  a  dozen  fascinating, 
languid  steps,  advancing  and  retreating  with  the 
grace  of  a  Nautch  girl,  holding  her  dress  with  the 
other  hand  so  as  to  allow  a  free  movement.  "  Do 
you  think  I'd  ever  do  that  for  John  the  Lyon's 
head  on  a  charger?" 

Then  her  mood  changed  to  the  domestic,  as  she 
threw  herself  into  an  easy-chair  and  said :  "  After 
all,  I'm  rather  sorry  he  has  gone.  lie  was  a  man 
you  could  trust ;  that  is,  if  you  wanted  to  trust 
anybody.  I  wish  I  had  been  made  good." 

When  Henderson  bade  her  good-night  it  was 
with  the  renewed  impression  that  she  was  a  very 
diverting  comrade. 

"  I'm  sort  of  sorry  for  you,"  she  said,  and  her 
eyes  were  not  so  serious  as  to  offend,  as  she  gave 
him  her  hand,  "  for  when  you  are  married,  you 
know,  as  the  saying  is,  you'll  want  some  place  to 
spend  your  evenings."  The  audacity  of  the  remark 
was  quite  obscured  in  the  innocent  frankness  and 
sweetness  of  her  manner. 

What  Henderson  had  to  show  Hollowell  in  his 
office  had  been  of  a  nature  greatly  to  interest  that 
able  financier.  It  was  a  project  that  would  have 
excited  the  sympathy  of  Carmen,  but  Henderson 
did  not  speak  of  it  to  her — though  he  had  found 
that  she  was  a  safe  deposit  of  daring  schemes  in 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  201 

general — on  account  of  a  feeling  of  loyalty  to  Mar 
garet,  to  whom  he  had  never  mentioned  it  in  any 
of  his  daily  letters.  The  scheme  made  a  great 
deal  of  noise,  later  on,  when  it  came  to  the  light  of 
consummation  in  legislatures  and  in  courts,  both 
civil  and  criminal ;  but  its  magnitude  and  success 
added  greatly  to  Henderson's  reputation  as  a  bold 
and  fortunate  operator,  and  gave  him  that  consid 
eration  which  always  attaches  to  those  who  com 
mand  millions  of  money,  and  have  the  nerve  to  go 
undaunted  through  the  most  trying  crises.  I  am 
anticipating  by  saying  that  it  absolutely  ruined 
thousands  of  innocent  people,  caused  wide-spread 
strikes  and  practical  business  paralysis  over  a  large 
region ;  but  those  things  were  regarded  as  only 
incidental  to  a  certain  sort  of  development,  and 
did  not  impair  the  business  standing,  and  rather 
helped  the  social  position,  of  the  two  or  three  men 
who  counted  their  gains  by  millions  in  the  opera 
tion.  It  furnished  occupation  and  gave  good  fees 
to  a  multitude  of  lawyers,  and  was  dignified  by  the 
anxious  consultation  of  many  learned  judges.  A 
moralist,  if  lie  were  poor  and  pessimistic,  might 
have  put  the  case  in  a  line,  and  taken  that  line 
from  the  Mosaic  decalogue  (which  was  not  intend 
ed  for  this  new  dispensation) ;  but  it  Avas  involved 
in  such  a  cloud  of  legal  technicalities,  and  took  on 
such  an  aspect  of  enterprise  and  development  of 
resources,  and  what  not,  that  the  general  public 


202  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

mind  was  completely  befogged  about  it.  I  am 
charitable  enough  to  suppose  that  if  the  scheme 
had  failed,  the  public  conscience  is  so  tender  that 
there  would  have  been  a  question  of  Henderson's 
honesty.  But  it  did  not  fail. 

Of  this  scheme,  however,  we  knew  nothing  at 
the  time  in  Brandon.  Henderson  was  never  in 
better  spirits,  never  more  agreeable,  and  it  did  not 
need  inquiry  to  convince  one  that  he  was  never  so 
prosperous.  He  was  often  with  us,  in  flying  visits, 
and  I  can  well  remember  that  his  coming  and  the 
expectation  of  it  gave  a  kind  of  elation  to  the 
summer — that  and  Margaret's  supreme  and  sunny 
happiness.  Even  my  wife  admitted  that  it  was  on 
both  sides  a  love-match,  and  could  urge  nothing 
against  it  except  the  woman's  instinct  that  made 
her  shrink  from  the  point  of  ever  thinking  of  him 
as  a  husband  for  herself,  which  seemed  to  me  a 
perfectly  reasonable  feeling  under  all  the  circum 
stances. 

The  summer — or  what  we  call  summer  in  the 
North,  which  is  usually  a  preparation  for  warm 
weather,  ending  in  a  preparation  for  cold  weather 
— seemed  to  me  very  short — but  I  have  noticed 
that  each  summer  is  a  little  shorter  than  the  pre 
ceding  one.  If  Henderson  had  wanted  to  gain  the 
confidence  of  my  wife  he  could  not  have  done  so 
more  effectually  than  he  did  in  making  us  the  con 
fidants  of  a  little  plan  he  had  in  the  city,  which 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  203 

was  a  profound  secret  to  the  party  most  concerned. 
This  was  the  purchase  and  furnishing  of  a  house, 
and  we  made  many  clandestine  visits  Avith  him  to 
town  in  the  early  autumn  in  furtherance  of  his 
plan.  He  was  intent  on  a  little  surprise,  and  when 
I  once  hinted  to  him  that  women  liked  to  have  a 
hand  in  making  the  home  they  were  to  occupy,  he 
said  he  thought  that  my  wife  knew  Margaret's 
taste — and  besides,  he  added,  with  a  smile,  "  it  will 
be  only  temporary ;  I  should  like  her,  if  she  chooses, 
to  build  and  furnish  a  house  to  suit  herself."  In 
any  one  else  this  would  have  seemed  like  assump 
tion,  but  with  Henderson  it  was  only  the  simple 
belief  in  his  career. 

We  were  still  more  surprised  when  we  came  to 
see  the  temporary  home  that  Henderson  had  se 
lected,  the  place  where  the  bride  was  to  alight,  and 
look  about  her  for  such  a  home  as  would  suit  her 
growing  idea  of  expanding  fortune  and  position. 
It  was  one  of  the  old-fashioned  mansions  on  Wash 
ington  Square,  built  at  a  time  when  people  attached 
more  importance  to  room  and  comfort  than  to  out 
side  display — a  house  that  seemed  to  have  tradi 
tions  of  hospitality  and  of  serene  family  life.  It  was 
being  thoroughly  renovated  and  furnished,  with  as 
little  help  from  the  decorative  artist  and  the  splen 
did  upholsterer  as  consisted  with  some  regard  to 
public  opinion ;  in  fact  the  expenditure  showed  in 
solid  dignity  and  luxurious  ease,  and  not  in  the 


204:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

construction  of  a  museum  in  which  one  could  only 
move  about  with  the  constant  fear  of  destroying 
something.  My  wife  was  given  almost  carte 
blanche  in  the  indulgence  of  her  taste,  and  she  con 
fessed  her  delight  in  being  able  for  once  to  deal 
with  a  house  without  the  feeling  that  she  was  ruin 
ing  me.  Only  in  the  suite  designed  for  Margaret 
did  Henderson  seriously  interfere,  and  insist  upon 
a  luxury  that  almost  took  my  wife's  breath  away. 
She  opposed  it  on  moral  grounds.  She  said  that 
no  true  wroman  could  stand  such  pampering  of  her 
senses  without  destruction  of  her  moral  fibre. 
But  Henderson  had  his  way,  as  he  always  had  it. 
What  pleased  her  most  in  the  house  was  the  con 
servatory,  opening  out  from  the  drawing-room — a 
spacious  place  with  a  fountain  and  cool  vines  and 
flowering  plants,  not  a  tropical  hot-house  in  a  sti 
fling  atmosphere,  in  which  nothing  could  live  ex 
cept  orchids  and  flowers  born  near  the  equator, 
but  a  garden  with  a  temperature  adapted  to  human 
lungs,  where  one  could  sit  and  enjoy  the  sunshine, 
and  the  odor  of  flowers,  and  the  clear  and  not  too 
incessant  notes  of  Mexican  birds.  But  when  it 
was  all  done,  undoubtedly  the  most  agreeable  room 
in  the  house  was  that  to  which  least  thought  had 
been  given,  the  room  to  which  any  odds  and  ends 
could  be  sent,  the  room  to  which  everybody  gravi 
tated  when  rest  and  simple  enjoyment  without  re 
straint  were  the  object — Henderson's  own  library, 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  205 

with  its  big  open  fire,  and  the  books  and  belong 
ings  of  his  bachelor  days.  Man  is  usually  not 
credited  with  much  taste  or  ability  to  take  care  of 
himself  in  the  matter  of  comfortable  living,  but  it 
is  frequently  noticed  that  when  woman  has  made 
a  dainty  paradise  of  every  other  portion  of  the 
house,  the  room  she  most  enjoys,  that  from  which 
it  is  difficult  to  keep  out  the  family,  is  the  one  that 
the  man  is  permitted  to  call  his  own,  in  which  he 
retains  some  of  the  comforts  and  can  indulge  some 
of  the  habits  of  his  bachelor  days.  There  is  an 
important  truth  in  this  fact  with  regard  to  the 
sexes,  but  I  do  not  know  what  it  is. 

They  were  married  in  October,  and  went  at 
once  to  their  own  house.  I  suppose  all  other  days 
were  but  a  preparation  for  this  golden  autumn  day 
on  which  we  went  to  church  and  returned  to  the 
wredding  -  breakfast.  I  am  sure  everybody  was 
happy.  Miss  Forsythe  was  so  happy  that  tears 
were  in  her  eyes  half  the  time,  and  she  bustled 
about  with  an  affectation  of  cheerfulness  that  was 
almost  contagious.  Poor,  dear,  gentle  lady !  I  can 
imagine  the  sensations  of  a  peach-tree,  in  an  or 
chard  of  trees  which  bud  and  bloom  and  by-and-by 
are  weighty  with  yellow  fruit,  year  after  year — 
a  peach-tree  that  blooms,  also,  but  never  comes  to 
fruition,  only  wastes  its  delicate  sweetness  on  the 
air,  and  finally  blooms  less  and  less,  but  feels  never- 


206  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

theless  in  each  returning  spring  the  stir  of  the  sap 
and  the  longing  for  that  fuller  life,  while  all  the 
orchard  bursts  into  flower,  and  the  bees  swarm 
about  the  pink  promises,  and  the  fruit  sets  and 
slowly  matures  to  lusciousness  in  the  sun  of  July. 
I  fancy  the  wedding,  which  robbed  us  all,  was 
hardest  for  her,  for  it  was  in  one  sense  a  finality  of 
her  life.  Whereas  if  Margaret  had  regrets — and 
deep  sorrow  she  had  in  wrenching  herself  from  the 
little  neighborhood,  though  she  never  could  have 
guessed  the  vacancy  she  caused  by  the  withdrawal 
of  her  loved  presence — her  own  life  wras  only  just 
beginning,  and  she  was  sustained  by  the  longing 
which  every  human  soul  has  for  a  new  career,  by 
the  curiosity  and  imagination  which  the  traveller 
feels  when  he  departs  for  a  land  which  he  desires, 
and  yet  dreads  to  see  lest  his  illusions  should  van 
ish.  Margaret  was  about  to  take  that  journey  in 
the  world  which  Miss  Forsythe  had  dreamed  of  in 
her  youth,  but  had  never  set  out  on.  There  are 
some  who  say  that  those  are  happiest  who  keep  at 
home  and  content  themselves  with  reading  about 
the  lands  of-  the  imagination.  But  happily  the 
world  does  not  believe  this,  and  indeed  would  be 
very  unhappy  if  it  could  not  try  and  prove  all  the 
possibilities  of  human  nature,  to  suffer  as  well  as  to 
enjoy. 

I  do  not  know  how  we  fell  into  the  feeling  that 
this  marriage  was  somehow  exceptional  and  im- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  207 

portant,  since  marriages  take  place  every  day,  and 
are  so  common  and  ordinarily  so  commonplace, 
when  the  first  flutter  is  over.  Even  Morgan  said, 
in  his  wife's  presence,  that  he  thought  there  had 
been  weddings  enough ;  at  least  he  would  inter 
dict  those  that  upset  things  like  this  one.  For  one 
thing,  it  brought  about  the  house-keeping  union  of 
Mrs.  Fletcher  and  Miss  Forsythe  in  the  latter's 
cottage — a  sort  of  closing  up  of  the  ranks  that 
happens  on  the  field  during  a  fatal  engagement. 
As  Ave  go  on  it  becomes  more  and  more  difficult  to 
fill  up  the  gaps. 

We  were  very  unwilling  to  feel  that  Margaret 
had  gone  out  of  our  life.  u  But  you  cannot,*'  Mor 
gan  used  to  say,  "  be  friends  with  the  rich,  and 
that  is  what  makes  the  position  of  the  very  rich  so 
pitiful,  for  the  rich  get  so  tired  of  each  other." 

"  But  Margaret,"  my  wife  urged,  "  will  never  be 
of  that  sort :  money  will  not  change  either  her 
habits  or  her  affections." 

u  Perhaps.  You  can  never  trust  to  inherited 
poverty.  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  will  resist  the 
world,  if  anybody  can,  but  my  advice  is  that  if  you 
want  to  keep  along  with  Margaret,  you'd  better 
urge  your  husband  to  make  money.  Experience 
seems  to  teach  that  while  they  cannot  come  to  us, 
we  may  sometimes  go  to  them." 

My  wife  and  Mrs.  Fletcher  were  both  indignant 
at  this  banter,  and  accused  Morgan  of  want  of 


208  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

faith,  and  even  lack  of  affection  for  Margaret ;  in 
short,  of  worldly-mindedness  himself. 

"  Perhaps  I  am  rather  shop-worn,"  he  confessed. 
"It's  not  distrust  of  Margaret's  intentions,  but 
knowledge  of  the  strength  of  the  current  on  which 
she  has  embarked.  Henderson  will  not  stop  in  his 
career  short  of  some  overwhelming  disaster  or  of 
death." 

u  I  thought  you  liked  him  ?  At  any  rate,  Mar 
garet  will  make  a  good  use  of  his  money." 

"  It  isn't  a  question,  my  dear  Mrs.  Fairchild,  of 
the  use  of  money,  but  of  the  use  money  makes  of 
you.  Yes,  I  do  like  Henderson,  but  I  can't  give  up 
my  philosophy  of  life  for  the  sake  of  one  good 
fellow." 

"  Philosophy  of  fudge !"  exclaimed  my  wife.  And 
there  really  was  no  answer  to  this. 

After  six  weeks  had  passed,  my  wife  paid  a  visit 
to  Margaret.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  affection 
ate  cordiality  of  her  welcome.  Margaret  was  over 
joyed  to  see  her,  to  show  the  house,  to  have  her 
know  her  husband  better,  to  take  her  into  her  new 
life.  She  was  hardly  yet  over  the  na'ive  surprises 
of  her  lovely  surroundings.  Or  if  it  is  too  much 
to  say  that  her  surprise  had  lasted  six  weeks — for 
it  is  marvellous  how  soon  women  adapt  themselves 
to  new  conditions  if  they  are  agreeable — she  was  in 
a  glow  of  wonder  at  her  husband's  goodness,  at  his 
love,  which  had  procured  all  this  happiness  for  her. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  209 

"  You  have  no  idea,"  she  said,  "  how  thoughtful 
he  is  about  everything — and  he  makes  so  little  of 
it  all.  I  am  to  thank  you,  he  tells  me  always,  for 
whatever  pleases  my  taste  in  the  house,  and  indeed 
I  think  I  should  have  known  you  had  been  here  if 
he  had  not  told  me.  There  are  so  many  little 
touches  that  remind  me  of  home.  I  am  glad  of 
that,  for  it  is  the  more  likely  to  make  you  feel  that 
it  is  your  home  also." 

She  clung  to  this  idea  in  the  whirl  of  the  new 
life.  In  the  first  days  she  dwelt  much  on  this 
theme ;  indeed  it  was  hardly  second  in  her  talk  to 
her  worship — I  can  call  it  nothing  less — of  her  hus-  v 
band.  She  liked  to  talk  of  Brandon  and  the  dear 
life  there  and  the  dearer  friends — this  much  talk 
about  it  showed  that  it  was  another  life,  already  of 
the  past,  and  beginning  to  be  distant  in  the  mind. 
My  wife  had  a  feeling  that  Margaret,  thus  early, 
was  conscious  of  a  drift,  of  a  widening  space,  and 
was  making  an  effort  to  pull  the  two  parts  of  her 
life  together,  that  there  should  be  no  break,  as  one 
carried  away  to  sea  by  a  resistless  tide  grasps  the 
straining  rope  that  still  maintains  his  slender  con 
nection  with  the  shore. 

But  it  Avas  all  so  different :  the  luxurious  house, 
the  carriage  at  call,  the  box  at  the  opera,  the  social,  j 
duties  inevitable  with  her  own  acquaintances  and 
the  friends  of  her  husband.     She  spoke  of  this  in  • 
moments  of  confidence,  and  when  she  was  tired, 
14 


210  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

with  a  consciousness  that  it  was  a  different  life,  but 
in  no  tone  of  regret,  and  I  fancy  that  the  French 
blood  in  her  veins,  which  had  so  long  run  decorous 
ly  in  Puritan  channels,  leaped  at  its  return  into 
new  gayety.  Years  ago  Margaret  had  thought  that 
she  might  some  time  be  a  missionary,  at  least  that 
she  should  like  to  devote  her  life  to  useful  labors 
among  the  poor  and  the  unfortunate.  If  con 
science  ever  reminded  her  of  this,  conscience  was 
quieted  by  the  suggestion  that  now  she  was  in  a 
position  to  be  more  liberal  than  she  ever  expected 
to  be ;  that  is,  to  give  everything  except  the  essen 
tial  thing — herself.  Henderson  liked  a  gay  house, 
brightness,  dinners,  entertainment,  and  that  his  wife 
should  be  seen  and  admired.  Proof  of  his  love  she 
found  in  all  this,  and  she  entered  into  it  with  spirit, 
and  an  enjoyment  increased  by  the  thought  that 
she  was  lightening  the  burden  of  his  business,  which 
she  could  see  pressed  more  and  more. 

Not  that  Henderson  made  any  account  of  his 
growing  occupations,  or  that  any  preoccupation 
was  visible  except  to  the  eye  of  love,  which  is  quick 
to  see  all  moods.  These  were  indeed  happy  days, 
full  of  the  brightness  of  an  expanding  prosperity 
and  unlimited  possibilities  of  the  enjoyment  of 
life.  It  was  in  obedience  to  her  natural  instinct, 
and  not  yet  a  feeling  of  compensation  and  propi 
tiation,  that  enlisted  Margaret  in  the  city  charities, 
connection  with  which  was  a  fashionable  entertain- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  211 

ment  with  some,  and  a  means  of  social  promotion 
with  others. 

My  wife  came  home  a  little  weary  with,  so  much 
of  the  world,  but,  on  the  Avhole,  impressed  with 
Margaret's  good  -  fortune.  '  Henderson  in  his  own 
house  was  the  soul  of  consideration  and  hospitality, 
and  Margaret  was  blooming  in  the  beauty  that 
shines  in  satisfied  desire. 


XIII. 

IT  is  so  painful  to  shrink,  and  so  delightful  to 
grow  !  Every  one  knows  the  renovation  of  feeling 
— often  mistaken  for  a  moral  renewal — when  the 
worn  dress  of  the  day  is  exchanged  for  the  fresh 
evening  toilet.  The  expansiveness  of  prosperity 
has  a  like  effect,  though  the  moralist  is  always  pip 
ing  about  the  beneficent  uses  of  adversity.  The 
moralist  is,  of  course,  right,  time  enough  given ; 
but  what  does  the  tree,  putting  out  its  tender  green 
leaves  to  the  wooing  of  the  south  wind,  care  for 
the  moralist?  How  charming  the  world  is  when 
you  go  with  it,  and  not  against  it ! 

It  was  better  than  Margaret  had  thought.  When 
she  came  to  Washington  in  the  winter  season  the 
beautiful  city  seemed  to  welcome  her  and  respond 
to  the  gayety  of  her  spirit.  It  was  so  open,  cheer 
ful,  hospitable,  in  the  appearance  of  its  smooth 
broad  avenues  and  pretty  little  parks,  with  the 
bronze  statues  which  all  looked  noble — in  the  moon 
light  ;  it  was  such  a  combination  and  piquant  con 
trast  of  shabby  ease  and  stately  elegance — negro 
cabins  and  stone  mansions,  picket-fences  and  sheds, 
and  flower  -  banked  terraces  before  rows  of  resi- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  213 

dences  which  bespoke  wealth  and  refinement.  The 
very  aspect  of  the  street  population  was  novel; 
compared  to  New  York,  the  city  was  as  silent  as  a 
country  village,  and  the  passers,  who  have  the  fash 
ion  of  walking  in  the  middle  of  the  street  upon  the 
asphalt  as  freely  as  upon  the  sidewalks,  had  a  sort 
of  busy  leisureliness,  the  natural  air  of  thousands 
of  officials  hived  in  offices  for  a  few  hours  and  then 
left  in  irresponsible  idleness.  But  what  most  dis 
tinguished  the  town,  after  all,  in  Margaret's  first 
glimpse  of  it,  was  the  swarming  negro  population 
pervading  every  part  of  it — the  slouching  planta 
tion  negro,  the  smart  mulatto  girl  with  gay  rai 
ment  and  mincing  step,  the  old-time  auntie,  the 
brisk  waiter -boy  with  uncertain  eye,  the  washer 
woman,  the  hawkers  and  fruiterers,  the  loafing 
strollers  of  both  sexes — carrying  everywhere  color, 
abandon,  a  certain  picturesqueness  and  irresponsi 
bility  and  good-nature,  and  a  sense  of  moral  relaxa 
tion  in  a  too  strict  and  duty-ridden  world. 

In  the  morning,  Avhen  Margaret  looked  froni  the 
windows  of  the  hotel,  the  sky  was  gray  and  yield 
ing,  and  all  the  outlines  of  the  looming  buildings 
were  softened  in  the  hazy  air.  The  dome  of  the 
Capitol  seemed  to  float  like  a  bubble,  and  to  be  as 
unsubstantial  as  the  genii  edifices  in  the  Arabian 
tale.  The  Monument,  the  slim  white  shaft  as  tall 
as  the  Great  Pyramid,  was  still  more  a  dream  crea 
tion,  not  reallv  made  of  hard  marble,  but  of  some- 


214:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

thing  as  soft  as  vapor,  almost  melting  into  the  sky, 
and  yet  distinct,  unwavering,  its  point  piercing  the 
upper  air,  threatening  every  instant  to  dissolve,  as 
if  it  were  truly  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision- 
light,  unreal,  ghost-like,  spotless,  pure  as  an  unsul 
lied  thought ;  it  might  vanish  in  a  breath  ;  and  yet, 
no ;  it  is  solid :  in  the  mist  of  doubt,  in  the  assault 
of  storms,  smitten  by  the  sun,  beaten  by  the  tem 
pests,  it  stands  there,  springing,  graceful,  immov 
able — emblem,  let  us  say,  of  the  purity  and  per- 
manence  of  the  republic. 

"  You  never  half  told  me,  Rodney,  how  beautiful 
it  all  is !"  Margaret  exclaimed,  in  a  glow  of  delight. 

"Yes,"  said  Henderson,  "the  Monument  is  be 
having  very  well  this  morning.  I  never  saw  it 
before  look  so  little  like  a  factory  chimney." 

"  That  is,  you  never  looked  at  it  with  my  eyes 
before,  cynic.  But  it  is  all  so  lovely,  everywhere." 

"  Of  course  it  is,  dear."  They  were  standing  to 
gether  at  the  window,  and  his  arm  was  where  it 
should  have  been.  "  What  did  you  expect  ?  There 
are  concentrated  here  the  taste  and  virtue  of  sixty 
millions  of  people." 

"  But  you  always  said  the  Washington  hotels 
were  so  bad.  These  apartments  are  charming." 

"  Yes  " — and  he  drew  her  closer  to  him — "  there 
is  no  denying  that.  But  presently  I  shall  have  to 
explain  to  you  an  odd  phenomenon.  Virginia,  you 
know,  used  to  be  famous  for  its  good  living,  and 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  215 

Maryland  was  simply  unapproachable  for  good 
cooking.  It  was  expected  when  the  District  was 
made  out  of  these  two  that  the  result  would  be 
something  quite  extraordinary  in  the  places  of  pub 
lic  entertainment.  But,  by  a  process  which  nobody 
can  explain,  in  the  union  the  art  of  cooking  in  ho 
tels  got  mislaid." 

"Well,"  she  said,  with  winning  illogicality, 
"you've  got  me." 

"  If  you  could  only  eat  the  breakfasts  for  me,  as 
you  can  see  the  Monument  for  me !" 

"  Dear,  I  could  eat  the  Monument  for  you,  if  it 
would  do  you  any  good."  And  neither  of  them 
was  ashamed  of  this  nonsense,  for  both  knew  that 
married  people  indulge  in  it  when  they  are  happy. 

Although  Henderson  came  to  Washington  on 
business,  this  was  Margaret's  wedding  journey. 
There  is  no  other  city  in  the  world  where  a  wed 
ding  journey  can  better  be  combined  with  such  busi 
ness  as  is  transacted  here,  for  in  both  is  a  certain 
element  of  mystery.  Washington  is  gracious  to  a 
bride,  if  she  is  pretty  and  agreeable — devotion  to 
governing,  or  to  legislation,  or  to  diplomacy,  does 
not  render  a  man  insensible  to  feminine  attractions ; 
and  if  in  addition  to  beauty  a  woman  has  the  repu 
tation  of  wealth,  she  is  as  nearly  irresistible  here  as 
anywhere.  To  Margaret,  who  was  able  to  return 
the  hospitality  she  received,  and  whose  equipage 
was  almost  as  much  admired  as  her  toilets,  all 


216  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

doors  were  open — a  very  natural  thing,  surely,  in  a 
good-natured,  give-and-take  world.  The  colonel- 
Margaret  had  laughed  till  she  cried  when  first  she 
heard  her  husband  saluted  by  this  title  in  Washing 
ton  by  his  New  Hampshire  acquaintances,  but  he 
explained  to  her  that  he  had  justly  won  it  years 
ago  by  undergoing  the  hardship  of  receptions  as  a 
member  of  the  Governor's  staff — the  colonel  had 
brought  on  his  horses  and  carriages,  not  at  all  by 
way  of  ostentation,  but  simply  out  of  regard  to 
what  was  due  her  as  his  wife,  and  because  a  car 
riage  at  call  is  a  constant  necessity  in  this  city, 
whose  dignity  is  equal  to  the  square  of  its  distances, 
and  because  there  is  something  incongruous  in 
sending  a  bride  about  in  a  herdic.  Margaret's  un 
worldly  simplicity  had  received  a  little  shock  when 
she  first  saw  her  servants  in  livery,  but  she  was  not 
slow  to  see  the  propriety  and  even  necessity  of  it 
in  a  republican  society,  since  elegance  cannot  be 
a  patchwork,  but  must  be  harmonious,  and  there 
is  no  harmony  between  a  stylish  turnout— noble 
horses  nobly  caparisoned  —  and  a  coachman  and 
footman  on  the  box  dressed  according  to  their  own 
vulgar  taste.  Given  a  certain  position,  one's  sense 
of  fitness  and  taste  must  be  maintained.  And 
there  is  so  much  kindliness  and  consideration  in 
human  nature — Margaret's  gorgeous  coachman  and 
footman  never  by  a  look  revealed  their  knowledge 
that  she  was  new  to  the  situation,  and  I  dare  say 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  217 

that  their  respectful  demeanor  contributed  to  raise 
her  in  her  own  esteem  as  one  of  the  select  and 
favored  in  this  prosperous  world.  The  most  self- 
poised  and  genuine  are  not  insensible  to  the  tribute 
of  this  personal  consideration.  My  lady  giving  or 
ders  to  her  respectful  servitors,  and  driving  down 
the  avenue  in  her  luxurious  turnout,  is  not  at  all 
the  same  person  in  feeling  that  she  would  be  if 
dragged  about  in  a  dissolute-looking  hack  whose 
driver  has  the  air  of  the  stable.  We  take  kindly 
to  this  transformation,  and  perhaps  it  is  only  the 
vulgar  -in  soul  who  become  snobbish  in  it.  Little 
by  little,  under  this  genial  consideration,  Margaret 
advanced  in  the  pleasant  path  of  worldliness ;  and 
we  heard,  by  the  newspapers  and  otherwise — in 
deed,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morgan  were  there  for  a  couple 
of  weeks  in  the  winter — that  she  was  never  more 
sweet  and  gracious  and  lovely  than  in  this  first 
season  at  the  capital.  I  don't  know  that  the  town 
was  raving,  as  they  said,  about  her  beauty  and 
wit — there  is  nothing  like  the  wit  of  a  handsome 
woman — and  amiability  and  unostentatious  little 
charities,  but  she  was  a  great  favorite.  We  used 
to  talk  about  it  by  the  fire  in  Brandon,  where 
everything  reminded  us  of  the  girl  we  loved,  and 
rejoice  in  her  good-fortune  and  happiness,  and  get 
rather  heavy-hearted  in  thinking  that  she  had  gone 
away  from  us  into  such  splendor., 

"  I  wish  you  were  here,"  she  wrote  to  my  wife. 


218  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"I  am  suro  you  would  enjoy  it.  There  are  so 
many  distinguished  people  and  brilliant  people- 
though  the  distinguished  are  not  always  brilliant 
nor  the  brilliant  distinguished — and  everybody  is 
so  kind  and  hospitable,  and  Eodney  is  such  a  favor 
ite.  "We  go  everywhere,  literally,  and  all  the  time. 
You  must  not  scold,  but  I  haven't  opened  a  book, 
except  my  prayer-book,  in  six  weeks— it  is  such  a 
whirl.  And  it  is  so  amusing.  I  didn't  know  there 
were  so  many  kinds  of  people  and  so  many  sorts  of 
provincialism  in  the  world.  The  other  night,  at  the 
British  Minister's,  a  French  attache,  who  compli 
mented  my  awful  French — I  told  him  that  I  inher 
ited  all  but  the  vocabulary  and  the  accent — said 
that  if  specimens  of  the  different  kinds  of  women 
evolved  in  all  out-of-the-way  places  who  come  to 
Washington  could  be  exhibited,  nobody  would 
doubt  any  more  that  America  is  an  interesting 
country.  Wasn't  it  an  impudent  speech  ?  I  tried 
to  tell  him,  in  French,  how  grateful  American 
women  are  for  any  little  attention  from  foreigners 
who  have  centuries  of  politeness  behind  them.  Ah 
me  !  I  sometimes  long  for  one  of  the  old-fashioned 
talks  before  your  smouldering  logs !  What  we  talk 
about  here,  Heaven  only  knows.  I  sometimes  tell 
Eodney  at  night — it  is  usually  morning — that  I 
feel  like  an  extinct  piece  of  fireworks.  But  next 
day  it  is  all  delightful  again ;  and,  dear  friend,  I 
don't  know  but  that  I  like  being  fireworks." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  219 

Among  the  men  who  came  oftenest  to  see  Hen 
derson  was  Jerry  Hollowell.  It  seemed  to  Marga 
ret  an  odd  sort  of  companionship ;  it  could  not  be 
any  similarity  of  tastes  that  drew  them  together, 
and  she  could  not  understand  the  nature  of  the 
business  transacted  in  their  mysterious  conferences. 
Social  life  had  few  attractions  for  Hollowell,  for 
his  family  were  in  the  West ;  he  appeared  to  have 
no  relations  with  any  branch  of  government ;  he 
wranted  no  office,  though  his  influence  was  much 
sought  by  those  who  did  want  it. 

"  You  spend  a  good  deal  of  time  here,  Mr.  Hollo- 
well,"  Margaret  said  one  day  when  he  called  in 
Henderson's  absence. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  considerable.  Things  need  a  good 
deal  of  fixing  up.  Washington  is  a  curious  place. 
It's  a  sort  of  exchange  for  the  whole  country :  you 
can  see  everybody  here,  and  it  is  a  good  place  to 
arrange  matters." 

"  With  Congress,  do  you  mean  ?"  Margaret  had 
heard  much  of  the  corruption  of  Congress. 

"No,  not  Congress  particularly.  Congressmen 
are  just  about  like  other  people.  It's  all  nonsense, 
this  talk  about  buying  Congressmen.  You  cannot 
buy  them  any  more  than  you  can  buy  other  peo 
ple,  but  you  can  sort  of  work  together  with  some 
of  them.  We  don't  wrant  anything  of  Congress, 
except  to  be  let  alone.  If  we  are  doing  something 
to  develop  the  trade  in  the  South-west,  build  it  up, 


220  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

some  member  who  thinks  lie  is  smart  will  just  as 
likely  as  not  try  to  put  in  a  block  somewhere,  or 
investigate,  or  something,  in  order  to  show  his  in 
dependence,  and  then  he  has  to  be  seen,  and  shown 
that  he  is  going  against  the  interests  of  his  con 
stituents.  It  is  just  as  it  is  everywhere :  men  have 
to  be  shown  what  their  real  interest  is.  No ;  most 
Congressmen  are  poor,  and  they  stay  poor.  It  is 
a  good  deal  easier  to  deal  with  those  among  them 
who  are  rich  and  have  some  idea  about  the  pros 
perity  of  the  country.  It  is  just  so  in  the  depart 
ments.  You've  got  to  watch  things,  if  you  expect 
them  to  go  smooth.  You've  got  to  get  acquainted 
with  the  men.  Most  men  are  reasonable  when  you 
get  well  acquainted  with  them.  I  tell  your  hus 
band  that  people  are  about  as  reasonable  in  Wash 
ington  as  you'll  find  them  anywhere." 
"  Washington  is  certainly  very  pleasant." 
"  Yes,  that's  so ;  it  is  pleasant.  Where  most  ev 
erybody  wants  something,  they  are  bound  to  be 
accommodating.  That's  my  idea.  I  reckon  you 
don't  find  Jerry  Hollow^ell  trying  to  pull  a  cat  by 
its  tail,"  he  added,  dropping  into  his  native  manner. 
"  Well,  I  must  go  and  hunt  up  the  old  man.  Glad 
to  have  made  your  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Henderson." 
And  then,  with  a  sly  look,  "  If  I  knew  you  better, 
ma'am,  I  should  take  the  liberty  of  congratulat 
ing  you  that  Henderson  has  come  round  so  hand 
somely." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  221 

"  Come  round  ?"  asked  Margaret,  in  amused  won 
der. 

"Well,  I  took  the  liberty  of  giving  him  a  hint 
that  he  wasn't  cut  out  for  a  single  man.  I  showed 
him  that,"  and  he  lugged  out  his  photograph-case 
from  a  mass  of  papers  in  his  breast-pocket  and 
handed  it  to  her. 

aAh,  I  see,"  said  Margaret,  studying  the  photo 
graphs  with  a  peculiar  smile. 

"  Oh,  Henderson  knows  a  good  thing  when  he 
sees  it,"  said  Hollowell,  complacently. 

It  was  not  easy  to  be  offended  with  HollowelPs 
kind-hearted  boorishness,  and  after  he  had  gone, 
Margaret  sat  a  long  time  reflecting  upon  this  new 
specimen  of  man  in  her  experience.  She  was  get 
ting  many  new  ideas  in  these  days,  the  moral  lines 
were  not  as  clearly  drawn  as  she  had  thought ;  it 
was  impossible  to  ticket  men  off  into  good  and  bad. 
In  Hollowell  she  had  a  glimpse  of  a  world  low- 
toned  and  vulgar ;  she  had  heard  that  he  was  ab 
solutely  unscrupulous,  and  she  had  supposed  that 
he  would  appear  to  be  a  very  wicked  man.  But  he 
seemed  to  be  good-hearted  and  tolerant  and  friend 
ly.  How  fond  he  was  of  his  family,  and  how  char 
itable  about  Congress !  And  she  wondered  if  the 
world  wras  generally  on  Hollowell's  level.  She  met 
many  men  more  cultivated  than  he,  gentlemen  in 
manner  and  in  the  first  social  position,  who  took, 
after  all,  about  his  tone  in  regard  to  the  world, 


222  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

very  agreeable  people  usually,  easy  to  get  on  with, 
not  exacting,  or  professing  much  faith  in  anybody, 
and  mildly  cynical  —  only  bitterly  cynical  when 
they  failed  to  get  what  they  wanted,  and  felt  the 
good  things  of  life  slipping  away  from  them.  It 
wras  to  take  her  some  time  to  learn  that  some  of 
-the  most  agreeable  people  are  those  who  have  suc 
ceeded  by  the  most  questionable  means ;  and  when 
she  came  to  this  knowledge,  what  would  be  her 
power  of  judgment  as  to  these  means  ? 

"  Mr.  Ilollowell  has  been  here,"  she  said,  when 
Henderson  returned. 

"  Old  Jerry  ?     He  is  a  character." 

"  Do  you  trust  him  ?" 

"  It  never  occurred  to  me.  Yes,  I  suppose  so,  as 
far  as  his  interests  go.  He  isn't  a  bad  sort  of  fel 
low — very  long-headed." 

"  Dear,"  said  Margaret,  with  hesitation,  "  I  wish 
you  didn't  have  anything  to  do  with  such  men." 

"Why,  dearest?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  You  needn't  laugh.  It  rath 
er  lets  one  down ;  and  it  isn't  like  you." 

Henderson  laughed  aloud  now.  "  But  you  needn't 
associate  with  Ilollowell.  "We  men  cannot  pick  our 
companions  in  business  and  politics.  It  needs  all 
sorts  to  keep  the  world  going." 

"  Then  I'd  rather  let  it  stop,"  Margaret  said. 

"And  sell  out  at  auction?"  he  cried,  with  a  look 
of  amusement. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  223 

"  But  aren't  Mr.  Morgan  and  Mr.  Fairchild  busi 
ness  men  ?" 

"  Yes — of  the  old-fashioned  sort.  The  fact  is, 
Margaret,  you've  got  a  sort  of  preserve  up  in  Bran 
don,  and  you  fancy  that  the  world  is  divided  into 
sheep  and  goats.  It's  a  great  mistake.  There  is 
no  such  division.  Every  man  almost  is  both  a 
sheep  and  a  goat." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,  Rodney.  You  are  neither." 
She  came  close  to  him,  and  taking  the  collar  of  his 
coat  in  each  hand,  gave  him  a  little  shake,  and 
looking  up  into  his  face  with  quizzical  affection, 
asked,  "  "What  is  your  business  here  ?" 

Henderson  stooped  down  and  kissed  her  fore 
head,  and  tenderly  lifted  the  locks  of  her  brown 
hair.  "  You  wouldn't  understand,  sweet,  if  I  told 
you." 

"  You  might  try." 

"  Well,  there's  a  man  here  from  Fort  Worth  who 
wants  us  to  buy  a  piece  of  railroad,  and  extend  it, 
and  join  it  with  Hollowell's  system,  and  open  up  a 
lot  of  new  country." 

"  And  isn't  it  a  good  piece  of  road  ?" 

"  Yes ;  that's  the  trouble.  The  owners  w^ant  to 
keep  it  to  themselves,  and  prevent  the  general  de 
velopment.  Bat  we  shall  get  it." 

"  It  isn't  anything  like  wrecking,  is  it,  dear  ?" 

"Do  you  think  we  would  want  to  wreck  our 
own  property  ?" 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  But  what  has  Congress  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  there's  a  land  grant.  But  some  of  the 
members  who  were  not  in  the  Congress  that  voted 
it  say  that  it  is  forfeited."  ^ 

In  this  fashion  the  explanation  went  on.  Mar 
garet  loved  to  hear  her  husband  talk,  and  to  watch 
the  changing  expression  of  his  face,  and  he  ex 
plained  about  this  business  until  she  thought  he 
was  the  sweetest  fellow  in  the  world. 

The  Morgans  had  arrived  at  the  same  hotel,  and 
Margaret  went  about  with  them  in  the  daytime, 
while  Henderson  was  occupied.  It  wTas  like  a 
breath  of  home  to  be  with  them,  and  their  pres 
ence,  reviving  that  old  life,  gave  a  new  zest  to  the 
society  spectacle,  to  the  innocent  round  of  enter 
tainments,  which  more  and  more  absorbed  her. 
Besides,  it  was  very  interesting  to  have  Mr.  Mor 
gan's  point  of  view  of  Washington,  and  to  see  the 
shifting  panorama  through  his  experience.  He 
had  been  very  much  in  the  city  in  former  years, 
but  he  came  less  and  less  now,  not  because  it  was 
less  beautiful  or  attractive  in  a  way,  but  because  it 
had  lost  for  him  a  certain  charm  it  once  had. 

"  I  am  not  sure,"  he  said,  as  they  were  driving 
one  day,  "  that  it  is  not  now  the  handsomest  capi 
tal  in  the  world ;  at  any  rate,  it  is  on  its  way  to  be 
that.  No  other  has  public  buildings  more  impos 
ing,  or  streets  and  avenues  so  attractive  in  their 
interrupted  regularity,  so  many  stately  vistas  end- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  225 

ing  in  objects  refreshing  to  the  eye — a  bit  of  park, 
banks  of  flowers,  a  statue  or  a  monument  that  is 
decorative,  at  least  in  the  distance.  As  the  years 
go  on  we  shall  have  finer  historical  groups,  tri 
umphal  arches  and  columns  that  will  give  it  more 
and  more  an  air  of  distinction,  the  sort  of  splendor 
with  which  the  Roman  Empire  celebrated  itself, 
and,  added  to  this,  the  libraries  and  museums  and 
galleries  that  are  the  chief  attractions  of  European 
cities.  Oh,  we  have  only  just  begun — the  city  is 
so  accessible  in  all  directions,  and  lends  itself  to  all 
sorts  of  magnificence  and  beauty." 

"  I  declare/'  said  Mrs.  Morgan  to  Margaret,  "  I 
didn't  know  that  he  could  be  so  eloquent.  Page, 
you  ought  to  be  in  Congress." 

"  In  order  to  snuff  myself  out  ?  Congress  is  not 
so  important  a  feature  as  it  used  to  be.  Washing 
ton  is  getting  to  have  a  character  of  its  own ;  it 
seems  as  if  it  wouldn't  be  much  without  its  official 
life,  yet  the  process  is  going  on  here  that  is  so 
marked  all  over  the  country — the  divorce  of  social 
and  political  life.  I  used  to  think,  fifteen  years 
ago,  that  Washington  was  a  standing  contradiction 
to  the  old  aphorism  that  a  democracy  cannot  make 
society — there  was  no  more  agreeable  society  in 
the  world  than  that  in  Washington  even  ten  years 
ago :  society  selected  itself  somehow  without  any 
marked  class  distinction,  and  it  was  delightfully 
simple  and  accessible." 
15 


226  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  And  what  has  changed  it  ?"  Margaret  asked. 

"  Money,  which  changes  everything  and  every 
body.  The  whole  scale  has  altered.  There  is  so 
much  more  display  and  expense.  I  remember 
wrhen  a  private  carriage  in  Washington  was  a  rare 
object.  The  possession  of  money  didn't  help  one 
much  socially.  What  made  a  person  desired  in 
any  company  was  the  talent  of  being  agreeable, 
talent  of  some  sort,  not  the  ability  to  give  a  costly 
dinner  or  a  big  ball.'V^ 

"  But  there  are  more  literary  and  scientific  peo 
ple  here,  everybody  says,"  said  Margaret,  who  was 
becoming  a  partisan  of  the  city. 

"  Yes,  and  they  keep  more  to  themselves — with 
draw  into  their  studies,  or  hive  in  their  clubs. 
They  tell  me  that  the  delightful  informality  and 
freedom  of  the  old  life  is  gone.  Ask  the  old  Wash 
ington  residents  whether  the  coming  in  of  rich 
people  with  leisure  hasn't  demoralized  society,  or 
stiffened  it,  and  made  it  impossible  after  the  old 
sort.  It  is  as  easy  here  now  as  anywhere  else  to 
get  together  a  very  heavy  dinner  party — all  very 
grand,  but  it  isn't  amusing.  It  is  more  and  more 
like  New  York." 

"  But  we  have  been  to  delightful  dinners,"  Mar 
garet  insisted. 

"No  doubt.  There  are  still  houses  of  the  old 
sort,  where  wit  and  good-humor  and  free  hospital 
ity  are  more  conspicuous  than  expense ;  but  when 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  227 

money  selects,  there  is  usually  an  incongruous  lot 
about  the  board.  An  oracular  scientist  at  the  club 
the  other  night  put  it  rather  neatly  when  he  said 
that  a  society  that  exists  mainly  to  pay  its  debts 
gets  stupid." 

"  That's  as  clever,"  Margaret  retorted,  "  as  the 
remark  of  an  under-secretary  at  a  cabinet  recep 
tion  the  other  night,  that  it  is  one  thing  to  enter 
tain  and  another  to  be  entertaining.  I  won't  haVe 
you  slander  Washington.  I  should  like  to  spend 
all  my  winters  here." 

"Dear  me!"  said  Morgan,  "I'v7e  been  praising 
Washington.  I  should  like  to  live  here  also,  if  I 
had  the  millions  of  Jerry  Hollowell.  Jerry  is  go 
ing  to  build  a  palace  out  on  the  Massachusetts 
Avenue  extension  bigger  than  the  White  House." 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  about  Hollowell." 

"  But  he  is  the  coming  man.  He  represents  the 
democratic  plutocracy  that  we  are  coming  to." 

All  Morgan's  banter  couldn't  shake  Margaret's 
enjoyment  of  the  cheerful  city.  "  You  like  it  as 
well  as  anybody,"  she  told  him.  And  in  truth  he 
and  Mrs.  Morgan  dipped  into  every  gayety  that 
was  going.  "  Of  course  I  do,"  he  said,  "for  a 
couple  of  weeks.  I  shouldn't  like  to  be  obliged  to 
follow  it  as  a  steady  business.  Washington  is  a 
good  place  to  take  a  plunge  occasionally.  And 
then  you  can  go  home  and  read  King  Solomon 
with  appreciation." 


228  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

Margaret  had  thought  when  she  came  to  Wash 
ington  that  she  should  spend  a  good  deal  of  time 
at  the  Capitol,  listening  to  the  eloquence  of  the 
Senators  and  Representatives,  and  that  she  should 
study  the  collections  and  the  Patent-office  and  ex 
plore  all  the  public  buildings,  in  which  she  had 
such  intense  historical  interest  as  a  teacher  in 
Brandon.  But  there  was  little  time  for  these 
pleasures,  which  weighed  upon  her  like  duties. 
She  did  go  to  the  Capitol  once,  and  tired  herself 
out  tramping  up  and  down,  and  was  very  proud  of 
it  all,  and  wondered  how  any  legislation  was  ever 
accomplished,  and  was  confused  by  the  hustling 
about,  the  swinging  of  doors,  the  swarms  in  the 
lobbies,  and  the  racing  of  messengers,  and  conclud 
ed  unjustly  that  it  was  a  big  hive  of  whispered 
conference,  and  bargaining,  and  private  interview 
ing.  Morgan  asked  her  if  she  expected  that  the 
business  of  sixty  millions  of  people  was  going  to 
be  done  with  the  order  and  decorum  of  a  lyceum 
debating  society.  In  one  of  the  committee-rooms 
she  saw  Hollo  well,  looking  at  ease,  and  apparently 
an  indispensable  part  of  the  government  machine. 
Her  own  husband,  who  had  accompanied  the  party, 
she  lost  presently,  whisked  away  somewhere.  lie 
was  sought  in  vain  afterwards,  and  at  last  Margaret 
came  away  dazed  and  stunned  by  the  noise  of  the 
wheels  of  the  great  republic  in  motion. 

She  did  not  try  it  again,  and  very  little  strolling 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  229 

about  the  departments  satisfied  her.  The  west 
end  claimed  her — the  rolling  equipages,  the  draw 
ing-rooms,  the  dress,  the  vistas  of  evening  lamps, 
the  gay  chatter  in  a  hundred  shining  houses,  the 
exquisite  dinners,  the  crush  of  the  assemblies,  the 
full  flow  of  the  tide  of  fashion  and  of  enjoyment — 
what  is  there  so  good  in  life  ?  To  be  young,  to  be 
rich,  to  be  pretty,  to  be  loved,  to  be  admired,  to 
compliment  and  be  complimented — every  Sunday 
at  morning  service,  kneeling  in  a  fluttering  row  of 
the  sweetly  devout,  whose  fresh  toilets  made  it 
good  to  be  there,  and  who  might  humbly  hope  to 
be  forgiven  for  the  things  they  have  left  undone, 
Margaret  thanked  Heaven  for  its  gifts. 

And  it  went  well  with  Henderson  meantime. 
Surely  he  was  born  under  a  lucky  star  — if  it  is 
good-luck  for  a  man  to  have  absolute  prosperity 
and  the  gratification  of  all  his  desires.  One  reason 
why  Hollowell  sought  his  co-operation  was  a  belief 
in  this  luck,  and  besides  Henderson  was,  he  knew, 
more  presentable,  and  had  social  access  in  quarters 
where  influence  was  desirable,  although  Hollowell 
was  discovering  that  with  most  men  delicacy  in 
presenting  anything  that  is  for  their  interest  is 
thrown  away.  He  found  no  difficulty  in  getting 
recruits  for  his  little  dinners  at  Champolion's— din 
ners  that  were  not  always  given  in  his  name,  and 
where  he  appeared  as  a  guest,  though  he  footed 
the  bills.  Bungling  grossness  has  disappeared 


230  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

from  all  really  able  and  large  transactions,  and 
genius  is  mainly  exercised  in  the  supply  of  motives 
for  a  line  of  conduct.  The  public  good  is  one  of 
the  motives  that  looks  best  in  Washington. 

Henderson  and  Hollo  well  got  what  they  wanted 
in  regard  to  the  South-west  consolidation,  and  got 
it  in  the  most  gentlemanly  way.  Nobody  was 
bought,  no  one  was  offered  a  bribe.  There  were, 
of  course,  fees  paid  for  opinions  and  for  profes 
sional  services,  and  some  able  men  induced  to  take 
a  prospective  interest  in  what  w^as  demonstrably 
for  the  public  good.  But  no  vote  was  given  for  a 
consideration — at  least  this  was  the  report  of  an 
investigating  committee  later  on.  Nothing,  of 
course,  goes  through  Congress  of  its  own  weight, 
except  occasionally  a  resolution  of  sympathy  with 
the  Coreans,  and  the  calendar  needs  to  be  watched, 
and  the  good  offices  of  friends  secured.  Skilful 
wording  of  a  clause,  the  right  moment,  and  oppor 
tune  recognition  do  the  business.  The  main  thing 
is  to  create  a  favorable  atmosphere  and  avoid  discus 
sion.  When  the  bill  was  passed,  Hollowell  did  give 
a  dinner  on  his  own  invitation,  a  dinner  that  was 
talked  of  for  its  refinement  as  well  as  its  cost.  The 
chief  topic  of  conversation  was  the  development  of 
the  South-west  and  the  extension  of  our  trade  rela 
tions  with  Mexico.  The  little  scheme,  hatched  in 
Henderson's  New  York  office,  in  order  to  transfer 
certain  already  created  values  to  the  pockets  of 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  231 

himself  and  his  friends,  appeared  to  have  a  national 
importance.  When  Henderson  rose  to  propose  the 
health  of  Jerry  Hollowell,  neither  he  nor  the  man 
he  eulogized  as  a  creator  of  industries  whose  repub 
lican  patriotism  was  not  bound  by  State  lines  nor 
circumscribed  by  sections  was  without  a  sense  of 
the  humor  of  the  situation. 

And  yet  in  a  certain  way  Mr.  Hollowell  was  con 
scious  that  he  merited  the  eulogy.  He  had  come 
to  believe  that  the  enterprises  in  which  he  was  en 
gaged,  that  absolutely  gave  him,  it  'was  believed,  an 
income  of  a  million  a  year,  were  for  the  public  good. 
Such  vast  operations  lent  him  the  importance  of  a 
public  man.  If  he  was  a  victim  of  the  confusion 
of  mind  which  mistook  his  own  prosperity  for  the 
general  benefit,  he  only  shared  a  wide  public  opin 
ion  which  regards  the  accumulation  of  enormous 
fortunes  in  a  few  hands  as  an  evidence  of  national 
wealth. 

Margaret  left  Washington  with  regret.  She  had 
a  desire  to  linger  in  the  opening  of  the  charming 
spring  there,  for  the  little  parks  Avere  brilliant  with 
flower  beds — tulips,  hyacinths,  crocuses,  violets — 
the  magnolias  and  redbuds  in  their  prodigal  splen 
dor  attracted  the  eye  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  and 
the  slender  twigs  of  the  trees  began  to  be  suffused 
with  tender  green.  It  was  the  sentimental  time  of 
the  year.  But  Congress  had  gone,  and  whatever 
might  be  the  promise  of  the  season,  Henderson  had 


232  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

already  gathered  the  fruits  that  had  been  forced 
in  the  hot-house  of  the  session.  He  was  in  high 
spirits. 

"  It  has  all  been  so  delightful,  dear !"  said  Mar 
garet  as  they  rode  away  in  the  train,  and  caught 
their  last  sight  of  the  dome.  They  were  in  Hollo- 
well's  private  car,  which  the  good-natured  old  fel 
low  had  put  at  their  disposal.  And  Margaret  had 
a  sense  of  how  delightful  and  prosperous  this  world 
is  as  seen  from  a  private  car. 

"  Yes,"  Henderson  answered,  thinking  of  various 
things ;  "  it  has  been  a  successful  winter.  The  cap 
ital  is  really  attractive.  It  occurred  to  me  the 
other  day  that  America  has  invented  a  new  kind 
of  city,  the  apotheosis  of  the  village — Washington." 

They  talked  of  the  city,  of  the  acquaintances  of 
the  winter,  of  Hollo  well's  thought  fulness  in  lending 
them  his  car,  that  their  bridal  trip,  as  he  had  said, 
might  have  a  good  finish.  Margaret's  heart  opened 
to  the  world.  She  thought  of  the  friends  at  Bran 
don,  she  thought  of  the  poor  old  ladies  she  was 
accustomed  to  look  after  in  the  city,  of  the  ragged- 
school  that  she  visited,  of  the  hospital  in  which  she 
was  a  manager,  of  the  mission  chapel.  The  next 
Sunday  would  be  Easter,  and  she  thought  of  a  hun 
dred  ways  in  which  she  could  make  it  brighter  for 
so  many  of  the  unfortunates.  Her  heart  was  open 
ed  to  the  world,  and  looking  across  to  Henderson, 
who  was  deep  in  the  morning  paper,  she  said,  with 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  233 

a  wife's  unblushing  effrontery,  "  Dearest,  how  hand 
some  you  are !" 

The  home  life  took  itself  up  again  easily  and 
smoothly  in  Washington  Square.  Did  there  ever 
come  a  moment  of  reflection  as  to  the  nature  of 
this  prosperity  which  was  altogether  so  absorbing 
and  agreeable  ?  If  it  came,  did  it  give  any  doubts 
and  raise  any  of  the  old  questions  that  used  to  be 
discussed  at  Brandon  ?  Wasn't  it  the  use  that  peo 
ple  made  of  money,  after  all,  that  was  the  real  test  ? 
She  did  not  like  Hollo  well,  but  on  acquaintance  he 
was  not  the  monster  that  he  had  appeared  to  her 
in  the  newspapers.  She  was  perplexed  now  and 
then  by  her  husband's  business,  but  did  it  differ 
from  that  of  other  men  she  had  known,  except  that 
it  was  on  a  larger  scale?  And  how  much  good 
could  be  done  with  money  ! 

On  Easter  morning,  when  Margaret  returned 
from  early  service,  to  which  she  had  gone  alone, 
she  found  upon  her  dressing-table  a  note  addresed 
to  "  My  Wife,"  and  in  it  a  check  for  a  large  sum 
to  her  order,  and  a  card,  on  which  was  written, 
"  For  Margaret's  Easter  Charities."  Flushed  with 
pleasure,  she  ran  to  meet  her  husband  on  the  land 
ing  as  he  was  descending  to  breakfast,  threw  her 
arms  about  his  neck,  and,  with  tears  in  her  eyes, 
cried,  "  Dearest,  how  good  you  are !" 

It  is  such  a  good  and  prosperous  generation. 


XIV. 

OUR  lives  are  largely  made  up  of  the  things  we 
do  not  have.  In  May,  the  time  of  the  apple  blos 
soms — just  a  year  from  the  swift  wooing  of  Mar 
garet — Miss  Forsythe  received  a  letter  from  John 
Lyon.  It  was  in  a  mourning  envelope.  The  Earl 
of  Chisholm  was  dead,  and  John  Lyon  was  Earl  of 
Chisholm.  The  information  was  briefly  conveyed, 
but  with  an  air  of  profound  sorrow.  The  letter 
spoke  of  the  change  that  this  loss  brought  to 
his  own  life,  and  the  new  duties  laid  upon  him, 
which  would  confine  him  more  closely  to  Eng 
land.  It  also  contained  congratulations  —  which 
circumstances  had  delayed  —  upon  Mrs.  Hender 
son's  marriage,  and  a  simple  wish  for  her  happi 
ness.  The  letter  was  longer  than  it  need  have 
been  for  these  purposes ;  it  seemed  to  love  to  dw^ell 
upon  the  little  visit  to  Brandon  and  the  circle  of 
friends  there,  and  it  wTas  pervaded  by  a  tone,  al 
most  affectionate,  towards  Miss  Forsythe,  which 
touched  her  very  deeply.  She  said  it  was  such  a 
manly  letter. 

America,  the  earl  said,  interested  him  more  and 
more.  In  all  history,  he  wrote,  there  never  had 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  235 

been  such  an  opportunity  for  studying  the  forma 
tion  of  society,  for  watching  the  working  out  of 
political  problems ;  the  elements  meeting  were  so 
new,  and  the  conditions  so  original,  that  historical 
precedents  were  of  little  service  as  guides.  He  ac 
knowledged  an  almost  irresistible  impulse  to  come 
back,  and  he  announced  his  intention  of  another 
visit  as  soon  as  circumstances  permitted. 

I  had  noticed  this  in  English  travellers  of  intelli 
gence  before.  Crude  as  the  country  is,  and  uninter 
esting  according  to  certain  established  standards, 
it  seems  to  have  a  "  draAving "  quality,  a  certain 
unexplained  fascination.  Morgan  says  that  it  is 
the  social  unconventionally  that  attracts,  and  that 
the  American  women  are  the  loadstone.  He  de 
clares  that  when  an  Englishman  secures  and  carries 
home  with  him  an  American  wife,  his  curiosity 
about  the  country  is  sated.  But  this  is  general 
izing  on  narrow  premises. 

There  was  certainly  in  Lyon's  letter  a  longing 
to  see  the  country  again,  but  the  impression  it 
made  upon  me  when  I  read  it — due  partly  to  its 
tone  towards  Miss  Forsythe,  almost  a  family  tone 
—was  that  the  earldom  was  an  empty  thing  with 
out  the  love  of  Margaret  Debree.  Life  is  so  brief 
at  the  best,  and  has  so  little  in  it  when  the  one 
thing  that  the  heart  desires  is  denied.  That  the 
earl  should  wish  to  come  to  America  again  with 
out  hope  or  expectation  was,  however,  quite  human 


236  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

nature.  If  a  man  has  found  a  diamond  and  lost 
it,  he  is  likely  to  go  again  and  again  and  wander 
about  the  field  where  he  found  it,  not  perhaps  in 
any  defined  hope  of  finding  another,  but  because 
there  is  a  melancholy  satisfaction  in  seeing  the 
spot  again.  It  was  some  such  feeling  that  im 
pelled  the  earl  to  wish  to  see  again  Miss  Forsythe, 
and  perhaps  to  talk  of  Margaret,  but  he  certainly 
had  no  thought  that  there  were  two  Margaret 
Debrees  in  America. 

To  her  aunt's  letter  conveying  the  intelligence 
of  Mr.  Lyon's  loss,  Margaret  replied  with  a  civil 
message  of  condolence.  The  news  had  already 
reached  the  Eschelles,  and  Carmen,  Margaret  said, 
had  written  to  the  new  earl  a  most  pious  note, 
which  contained  no  allusion  to  his  change  of  fort 
une,  except  an  expression  of  sympathy  with  his 
now  enlarged  opportunity  for  carrying  on  his  phil 
anthropic  plans — a  most  unworldly  note.  "  I  used 
to  think,"  she  had  said,  when  confiding  what  she 
had  done  to  Margaret,  "that  you  would  make  a 
perfect  missionary  countess,  but  you  have  done 
better,  my  dear,  and  taken  up  a  much  more  diffi 
cult  work  among  us  fashionable  sinners.  Do  you 
know,"  she  went  on,  "  that  I  feel  a  great  deal  less 
worldly  than  I  used  to." 

Margaret  wrote  a  most  amusing  account  of  this 
interview,  and  added  that  Carmen  was  really  very 
good-hearted,  and  not  half  as  worldly-minded  as 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  237 

she  pretended  to  be ;  an  opinion  with  which  Miss 
Forsythe  did  not  at  all  agree.  She  had  spent 
a  fortnight  with  Margaret  after  Easter,  and  she 
came  back  in  a  dubious  frame  of  mind.  Marga 
ret's  growing  intimacy  with  Carmen  was  one  of 
the  sources  of  her  uneasiness.  They  appeared  to 
be  more  and  more  companionable,  although  Mar 
garet's  clear  perception  of  character  made  her  es 
timate  of  Carmen  very  nearly  correct.  But  the 
fact  remained  that  she  found  her  company  inter 
esting.  Whether  the  girl  tried  to  astonish  the 
country  aunt,  or  whether  she  was  so  thoroughly  a 
child  of  her  day  as  to  lack  certain  moral  percep 
tions,  I  do  not  know,  but  her  candid  conversation 
greatly  shocked  Miss  Forsythe. 

"  Margaret,"  she  said  one  day,  in  one  of  her  ap 
parent  bursts  of  confidence,  "seems  to  have  had 
such  a  different  start  in  life  from  mine.  Some 
times,  Miss  Forsythe,  she  puzzles  me.  I  never  saw 
anybody  so  much  in  love  as  she  is  with  Mr.  Hen 
derson  ;  she  doesn't  simply  love  him,  she  is  in  love 
with  him.  I  don't  wonder  she  is  fond  of  him — any 
woman  might  be  that — but,  do  you  know,  she  act 
ually  believes  in  him." 

"  Why  shouldn't  she  believe  in  him  ?"  exclaimed 
Miss  Forsythe,  in  astonishment. 

"  Oh,  of  course,  in  a  way,"  the  girl  went  on.  "  I 
like  Mr.  Henderson — I  like  him  very  much — but  I 
don't  believe  in  him,  It  isn't  the  way  now  to  be- 


238  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

lieve  in  anybody  very  much.  "We  don't  do  it,  and  I 
think  we  get  along  just  as  well-— and  better.  Don't 
you  think  it's  nicer  not  to  have  any  deceptions  ?" 

Miss  Forsythe  Avas  too  much  stunned  to  make 
any  reply.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the  bottom  had 
fallen  out  of  society. 

"  Do  you  think  Mr.  Henderson  believes  in  peo 
ple  ?"  the  girl  persisted. 

"  If  he  does  not  he  isn't  much  of  a  man.  If  peo 
ple  don't  believe  in  each  other,  society  is  going  to 
pieces.  I  am  astonished  at  such  a  tone  from  a 
woman." 

"  Oh,  it  isn't  any  tone  in  me,  my  dear  Miss  For 
sythe,"  Carmen  continued,  sweetly.  "  Society  is  a 
great  deal  pleasanter  when  you  are  not  anxious  and 
don't  expect  too  much." 

Miss  Forsythe  told  Margaret  that  she  thought 
Miss  Eschelle  was  a  dangerous  woman.  Margaret 
did  not  defend  her,  but  she  did  not  join,  either,  in 
condemning  her;  she  appeared  to  have  accepted 
her  as  a  part  of  her  world.  And  there  were  other 
things  that  Margaret  seemed  to  have  accepted  with 
out  that  vigorous  protest  which  she  used  to  raise  at 
whatever  crossed  her  conscience.  To  her  aunt  she 
was  never  more  affectionate,  never  more  solicitous 
about  her  comfort  and  her  pleasure,  and  it  was  al 
most  enough  to  see  Margaret  happy,  radiant,  ex 
panding  day  by  day  in  the  prosperity  that  was  il 
limitable,  only  there  was  to  her  a  note  of  unreality 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  239 

in  all  the  whirl  and  hurry  of  the  busy  life.  She 
liked  to  escape  to  her  room  with  a  book,  and  be  out 
of  it  all,  and  the  two  weeks  away  from  her  country 
life  seemed  long  to  her.  She  couldn't  reconcile 
Margaret's  love  of  the  world,  her  tolerance  of  Car 
men,  and  other  men  and  women  whose  lives  seemed 
to  be  based  on  Carmen's  philosophy,  with  her  devo 
tion  to  the  church  services,  to  the  city  missions,  and 
the  dozens  of  charities  that  absorb  so  much  of  the 
time  of  the  leaders  of  society. 

"  You  are  too  young,  dear,  to  be  so  good  and  de 
vout,"  was  Carmen's  comment  on  the  situation. 

To  Miss  Forsythe's  wonder,  Margaret  did  not  re 
sent  this  impertinence,  but  only  said  that  no  accu 
mulation  of  years  was  likely  to  bring  Carmen  into 
either  of  these  dangers.  And  the  reply  was  no 
more  satisfactory  to  Miss  Forsythe  than  the  remark 
that  provoked  it. 

That  she  had  had  a  delightful  visit,  that  Marga 
ret  was  more  lovely  than  ever,  that  Henderson  was 
a  delightful  host,  was  the  report  of  Miss  Forsythe 
when  she  returned  to  us.  In  a  confidential  talk 
with  my  wife  she  confessed,  however,  that  she 
couldn't  tell  whither  Margaret  was  going. 

One  of  the  worries  of  modern  life  is  the  perplex 
ity  where  to  spend  the  summer.  The  restless  spirit 
of  change  affects  those  who  dwell  in  the  country,  as 
well  as  those  who  live  in  the  city.  No  matter  how 
charming  the  residence  is,  one  can  stay  in  it  only  a 


240  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

part  of  the  year.  He  actually  needs  a  house  in 
town,  a  villa  by  the  sea,  and  a  cottage  in  the  hills. 
When  these  are  secured — each  one  an  establishment 
more  luxurious  year  by  year — then  the  family  is 
ready  to  travel  about,  and  is  in  a  greater  perplexity 
than  before  whether  to  spend  the  summer  in  Eu 
rope  or  in  America,  the  novelties  of  which  are  be 
ginning  to  excite  the  imagination.  This  nomadism, 
which  is  nothing  less  than  society  on  wheels,  can 
not  be  satirized  as  a  whim  of  fashion ;  it  has  a  se 
rious  cause  in  the  discovery  of  the  disease  called 
nervous  prostration,  which  demands  for  its  cure 
constant  change  of  scene,  without  any  occupation. 
Henderson  recognized  it,  but  he  said  that  person 
ally  he  had  no  time  to  indulge  in  it.  His  summer 
was  to  be  a  very  busy  one.  It  was  impossible  to 
take  Margaret  with  him  on  his  sudden  and  tedious 
journeys  from  one  end  of  the  country  to  the  other, 
but  she  needed  a  change.  It  was  therefore  arranged 
that  after  a  visit  to  Brandon  she  should  pass  the 
warm  months  with  the  Arbusers  in  their  summer 
home  at  Lenox,  with  a  month — the  right  month — 
in  the  Eschelle  villa  at  Newport;  and  he  hoped 
never  to  be  long  absent  from  one  place  or  the  other.j 

Margaret  came  to  Brandon  at  the  beginning  of 
June,  just  at  the  season  when  the  region  was  at 
its  loveliest,  and  just  when  its  society  was  making 
preparations  to  get  away  from  it  to  the  sea,  or  the 
mountains,  or  to  any  place  that  was  not  home.  I 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  241 

could  never  understand  why  a  people  who  have 
been  grumbling  about  snow  and  frost  for  six  months, 
and  longing  for  genial  weather,  should  flee  from  it 
as  soon  as  it  comes.  I  had  made  the  discovery, 
quite  by  chance — and  it  was  so  novel  that  I  might 
have  taken  out  a  patent  on  it — that  if  one  has  a 
comfortable  home  in  our  northern  latitude,  he  can 
not  do  better  than  to  stay  in  it  when  the  hum  of 
the  mosquito  is  heard  in  the  land,  and  the  mercury 
is  racing  up  and  down  the  scale  between  fifty  and 
ninety.  This  opinion,  however,  did  not  extend  be 
yond  our  little  neighborhood,  and  we  may  be  said 
to  have  had  the  summer  to  ourselves. 

I  fancied  that  the  neighborhood  had  not  changed, 
but  the  coming  of  Margaret  showed  me  that  this 
was  a  delusion.  No  one  can  keep  in  the  same 
place  in  life  simply  by  standing  still,  and  the  events 
of  the  past  two  years  had  wrought  a  subtle  change 
in  our  quiet.  Nothing  had  been  changed  to  the 
eye,  yet  something  had  been  taken  away,  or  some 
thing  had  been  added,  a  door  had  been  opened  into 
the  world.  Margaret  had  come  home,  yet  I  fan 
cied  it  was  not  the  home  to  her  that  she  had  been 
thinking  about.  Had  she  changed  ? 

She  was  more  beautiful.  She  had  the  air — I 
should  hesitate  to  call  it  that  of  the  fine  lady — 
of  assured  position,  something  the  manner  of  that 
greater  world  in  which  the  possession  of  wealth 
has  supreme  importance,  but  it  was  scarcely  a 
16 


24:2  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

change  of  manner  so  much  as  of  ideas  about  life 
and  of  the  things  valuable  in  it  gradually  showing 
itself.  Her  delight  at  being  again  with  her  old 
friends  was  perfectly  genuine,  and  she  had  never 
appeared  more  unselfish  or  more  affectionate.  If 
there  was  a  subtle  difference,  it  might  very  well  be 
in  us,  though  I  found  it  impossible  to  conceive  of 
her  in  her  former  role  of  teacher  and  simple  maiden, 
with  her  heart  in  the  little  concerns  of  our  daily 
life.  And  why  should  she  be  expected  to  go  back 
to  that  stage  ?  Must  we  not  all  live  our  lives  ? 

Miss  Forsythe's  solicitude  about  Margaret  was 
mingled  with  a  curious  deference,  as  to  one  who 
had  a  larger  experience  of  life  than  her  own.  The 
girl  of  a  year  ago  was  now  the  married  woman, 
and  was  invested  with  something  of  the  dignity 
that  Miss  Forsythe  in  her  pure  imagination  at 
tached  to  that  position.  Without  yielding  any 
of  her  opinions,  this  idea  somehow  changed  her 
relations  to  Margaret;  a  little,  I  thought,  to  the 
amusement  of  Mrs.  Fletcher  and  the  other  ladies, 
to  whom  marriage  took  on  a  less  mysterious  as 
pect.  It  arose  doubtless  from  a  renewed  sense  of 
the  incompleteness  of  her  single  life,  long  as  it 
had  been,  and  enriched  as  it  was  by  observation. 

In  that  June  there  were  vexatious  strikes  in  va 
rious  parts  of  the  country,  formidable  combinations 
of  laboring-men,  demonstrations  of  trades-unions, 
and  the  exhibition  of  a  spirit  that  sharply  called 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  243 

attention  to  the  unequal  distribution  of  wealth. 
The  discontent  was  attributed  in  some  quarters  to 
the  exhibition  of  extreme  luxury  and  reckless  liv 
ing  by  those  who  had  been  fortunate.  It  was  even 
said  that  the  strikes,  unreasonable  and  futile  as 
they  were,  and  most  injurious  to  those  who  in 
dulged  in  them,  were  indirectly  caused  by  the  rail 
way  manipulation,  in  the  attempt  not  only  to  crush 
out  competition,  but  to  exact  excessive  revenues 
on  fictitious  values.  Kesistance  to  this  could  be 
shown  to  be  blind,  and  the  strikers  technically  in 
the  wrong,  yet  the  impression  gained  ground  that 
there  was  something  monstrously  wrong  in  the 
way  great  fortunes  were  accumulated,  in  total  dis 
regard  of  individual  rights,  and  in  a  materialistic 
spirit  that  did  not  take  into  account  ordinary  hu 
manity.  For  it  was  not  alone  the  laboring  class 
that  was  discontented,  but  all  over  the  country 
those  who  lived  upon  small  invested  savings,  wid 
ows  and  minors,  found  their  income  imperilled  by 
the  trickery  of  rival  operators  and  speculators  in 
railways  and  securities,  who  treated  the  little  pri 
vate  accumulations  as  mere  counters  in  the  games 
they  were  playing.  The  loss  of  dividends  to  them 
was  poorly  compensated  by  reflections  upon  the 
development  of  the  country,  and  the  advantage  to 
trade  of  great  consolidations,  which  inured  to  the 
benefit  of  half  a  dozen  insolent  men. 

In  discussing  these  things  in  our  little  parliament 


24:4:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

we  were  not  altogether  unprejudiced,  it  must  be 
confessed.  For,  to  say  nothing  of  interests  of  Mr. 
Morgan  and  my  own,  which  seemed  in  some  dan 
ger  of  disappearing  for  the  "public  good,"  Mrs. 
Fletcher's  little  fortune  was  nearly  all  invested  in 
that  sound  "rock-bed"  railway  in  the  South-west 
that  Mr.  Jerry  Hollowell  had  recently  taken  under 
his  paternal  care.  She  was  assured,  indeed,  that 
dividends  were  only  reserved  pending  some  sort  of 
reorganization,  which  would  ultimately  be  of  great 
benefit  to  all  the  parties  concerned ;  but  this  was 
much  like  telling  a  hungry  man  that  if  he  would 
possess  his  appetite  in  patience,  he  would  very  like 
ly  have  a  splendid  dinner  next  year.  "Women  are 
not  constituted  to  understand  this  sort  of  reasoning. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  in  our  general  talks  on  the 
situation  these  personalities  were  not  referred  to, 
for  although  Margaret  was  silent,  it  was  plain  to 
see  that  she  was  uneasy. 

Morgan  liked  to  raise  questions  of  casuistry,  such 
as  that  whether  money  dishonestly  come  by  could 
be  accepted  for  good  purposes. 

"  I  had  this  question  referred  to  me  the  other 
day,"  he  said.  "A  gambler — not  a  petty  cheater  in 
cards,  but  a  man  who  has  a  splendid  establishment 
in  which  he  has  amassed  a  fortune,  a  man  known 
for  his  liberality  and  good-fellowship  and  his  inter 
est  in  politics — offered  the  president  of  a  leading 
college  a  hundred  thousand  dollars  to  endow  a  pro- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  245 

fessorship.  Ought  the  president  to  take  the  money, 
knowing  how  it  was  made  ?" 

"Wouldn't  the  money  do  good — as  much  good 
as  any  other  hundred  thousand  dollars?"  asked 
Margaret. 

"  Perhaps.  But  the  professorship  was  to  bear  his 
name,  and  what  would  be  the  moral  effect  of  that  ?" 

"  Did  you  recommend  the  president  to  take  the 
money,  if  he  could  get  it  without  using  the  gam 
bler's  name  ?" 

"  I  am  not  saying  yet  what  I  advised.  I  am  try 
ing  to  get  your  views  on  a  general  principle." 

"  But  wouldn't  it  be  a  sneaking  thing  to  take  a 
man's  money,  and  refuse  him  the  credit  of  his  gen 
erosity  ?" 

"But  was  it  generosity?  Was  not  his  object, 
probably,  to  get  a  reputation  which  his  whole  life 
belied,  and  to  get  it  by  obliterating  the  distinction 
between  right  and  wrong  ?" 

"But  isn't  it  a  compromising  distinction,"  my 
wife  asked,  "  to  take  his  money  without  his  name  ? 
The  president  knows  that  it  is  money  fraudulently 
got,  that  really  belongs  to  somebody  else ;  and  the 
gambler  would  feel  that  if  the  president  takes  it,  he 
cannot  think  very  disapprovingly  of  the  manner  in 
which  it  was  acquired.  I  think  it  would  be  more 
honest  and  straightforward  to  take  his  name  with 
the  money." 

"  The  public  effect  of  connecting  the  gambler's 


246  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

name  with  the  college  would  be  debasing,"  said 
Morgan ;  "  but,  on  the  contrary,  is  every  charity 
or  educational  institution  bound  to  scrutinize  the 
source  of  every  benefaction?  Isn't  it  better  that 
money,  however  acquired,  should  be  used  for  a  good 
purpose  than  a  bad  one  ?" 

"  That  is  a  question,'*  I  said,  "  that  is  a  vital  one 
in  our  present  situation,  and  the  sophistry  of  it  puz 
zles  the  public.  What  would  you  say  to  this  case  ? 
A  man  notoriously  dishonest,  but  within  the  law, 
and  very  rich,  offered  a  princely  endowment  to  a 
college  very  much  in  need  of  it.  The  sum  would 
have  enabled  it  to  do  a  great  work  in  education. 
But  it  was  intimated  that  the  man  would  expect, 
after  a  while,  to  be  made  one  of  the  trustees.  His 
object,  of  course,  was  social  position." 

" I  suppose,  of  course,"  Margaret  replied,  "that 
the  college  couldn't  afford  that.  It  would  look  like 
bribery." 

"  Wouldn't  he  be  satisfied  with  an  LL.DJ"  Mor 
gan  asked. 

"  I  don't  see,"  my  wife  said,  "  any  difference  be 
tween  the  two  cases  stated  and  that  of  the  stock 
gambler,  whose  unscrupulous  operations  have  ru 
ined  thousands  of  people,  who  founds  a  theological 
seminary  with  the  gains  of  his  slippery  transac 
tions.  By  accepting  his  seminary  the  public  con 
dones  his  conduct.  Another  man,  with  the  same 
shaky  reputation,  endows  a  college.  Do  you  think 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

that  religion  and  education  are  benefited  in  the 
long-run  by  this  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  the  public 
is  gradually  losing  its  power  of  discrimination  be 
tween  the  value  of  honesty  and  dishonesty.  Eeal 
respect  is  gone  when  the  public  sees  that  a  man  is 
able  to  buy  it." 

This  was  a  hot  speech  for  my  wife  to  make.  For 
a  moment  Margaret  flamed  up  under  it  with  her 
old-time  indignation.  I  could  see  it  in  her  eyes, 
and  then  she  turned  red  and  confused,  and  at  length 
said : 

"  But  wouldn't  you  have  rich  men  do  good  with 
their  money  ?" 

"Yes,  dear,  but  I  would  not  have  them  think 
they  can  blot  out  by  their  liberality  the  condemna 
tion  of  the  means  by  which  many  of  them  make 
money.  That  is  what  they  are  doing,  and  the  pub 
lic  is  getting  used  to  it." 

"Well,"  said  Margaret,  with  some  warmth,  "I 
don't  know  that  they  are  any  worse  than  the  stingy 
saints  who  have  made  their  money  by  saving,  and 
act  as  if  they  expected  to  carry  it  with  them." 

"  Saints  or  sinners,  it  does  not  make  much  differ 
ence  to  me,"  now  put  in  Mrs.  Fletcher,  who  was 
evidently  considering  the  question  from  a  practical 
point  of  view,  "  what  a  man  professes,  if  he  founds 
a  hospital  for  indigent  women  out  of  the  dividends 
that  I  never  received." 

Morgan  laughed.  ."  Don't  you  think,  Mrs.  Fletcher, 


248  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

that  it  is  a  good  sign  of  the  times,  that  so  many 
people  who  make  money  rapidly  are  disposed  to 
use  it  philanthropically  ?" 

"  It  may  be  for  them,  but  it  does  not  console  me 
much  just  now." 

"  But  you  don't  make  allowance  enough  for  the 
rich.  Perhaps  they  are  under  a  necessity  of  doing 
something.  I  was  reading  this  morning  in  the  di 
ary  of  old  John  Ward,  of  Stratford-on-Avon,  this 
sentence :  i  It  was  a  saying  of  Xavisson,  a  lawyer, 
that  no  man  could  be  valiant  unless  he  hazarded 
his  body,  nor  rich  unless  he  hazarded  his  soul.' ': 

"Was  Navisson  a  modern  lawyer?"  I  asked. 

"  No ;  the  diary  is  dated  1648-1679." 

"  I  thought  so." 

There  was  a  little  laugh  at  this,  and  the  talk 
drifted  off  into  a  consideration  of  the  kind  of  con 
science  that  enables  a  professional  man  to  espouse 
a  cause  he  knows  to  be  wrong  as  zealously  as  one 
he  knows  to  be  right ;  a  talk  that  I  should  not  have 
remembered  at  all,  except  for  Margaret's  earnest 
ness  in  insisting  that  she  did  not  see  how  a  lawyer 
could  take  up  the  dishonest  side. 

Before  Margaret  went  to  Lenox,  Henderson  spent 
a  few  days  with  us.  He  brought  with  him  the 
abounding  cheerfulness,  and  the  air  of  a  prosper 
ous,  smiling  world,  that  attended  him  in  all  circum 
stances.  And  how  happy  Margaret  was !  They 
went  over  every  foot  of  the  ground  on  which  their 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  249 

brief  courtship  had  taken  place,  and  Heaven  knows 
what  joy  there  was  to  her  in  reviving  all  the  ten 
derness  and  all  the  fear  of  it !  Busy  as  Henderson 
was,  pursued  by  hourly  telegrams  and  letters,  we 
could  not  but  be  gratified  that  his  attention  to  her 
was  that  of  a  lover.  How  could  it  be  otherwise, 
when  all  the  promise  of  the  girl  was  realized  in 
the  bloom  and  the  exquisite  susceptibility  of  the 
woman.  Among  other  things,  she  dragged  him 
down  to  her  mission  in  the  city,  to  which  he  went 
in  a  laughing  and  bantering  mood.  When  he  had 
gone  away,  Margaret  ran  over  to  my  wife,  bring 
ing  in  her  hand  a  slip  of  paper. 

"  See  that !"  she  cried,  her  eyes  dancing  with 
pleasure.  It  was  a  check  for  a  thousand  dollars. 
"  That  will  refurnish  the  mission  from  top  to  bot 
tom,"  she  said,  "  and  run  it  for  a  year." 

"  How  generous  he  is !"  cried  my  wife.  Marga 
ret  did  not  reply,  but  she  looked'  at  the  check,  and 
there  were  tears  in  her  eyes. 


XV. 

THE  Arbuser  cottage  at  Lenox  was  really  a  mag 
nificent  villa.  Richardson  had  built  it.  At  a  dis 
tance  it  had  the  appearance  of  a  medieval  struct 
ure,  with  its  low  door-ways,  picturesque  gables,  and 
steep  roofs,  and  in  its  situation  on  a  gentle  swell 
of  green  turf  backed  by  native  forest-trees  it  im 
parted  to  the  landscape  an  ancestral  tone  which  is 
much  valued  in  these  days.  But  near  to,  it  was 
seen  to  be  medievalism  adapted  to  the  sunny  hos 
pitality  of  our  summer  climate,  with  generous  veran 
das  and  projecting  balconies  shaded  by  gay  awn 
ings,  and  within  spacious,  open  to  the  breezes,  and 
from  its  broad  windows  offering  views  of  lawns 
and  flower-beds  and  ornamental  trees,  of  a  great 
sweep  of  pastures  and  forests  and  miniature  lakes, 
with  graceful  and  reposeful  hills  on  the  horizon. 

It  was,  in  short,  the  modern  idea  of  country 
simplicity.  The  passion  for  country  life,  which 
has  been  in  decadence  for  nearly  half  a  century, 
has  again  become  the  fashion.  Nature,  which,  left 
to  itself,  is  a  little  ragged,  not  to  say  monotonous 
and  tiresome,  is  discovered  to  be  a  valuable  ally 
for  aid  in  passing  the  time  wThen  art  is  able  to 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  251 

make  portions  of  it  exclusive.  What  the  Arbusers 
wanted  was  a  simple  home  in  the  country,  and  in 
obtaining  it  they  were  indulging  a  sentiment  of 
returning  to  the  primitive  life  of  their  father,  who 
had  come  to  the  city  from  a  hill  farm,  and  had 
been  too  busy  all  his  life  to  recur  to  the  tastes  of 
his  boyhood.  At  least  that  was  the  theory  of  his 
daughters ;  but  the  old  gentleman  had  a  horror  of 
his  early  life,  and  could  scarcely  be  dragged  away 
from  the  city  even  in  the  summer.  He  would  no 
doubt  have  been  astonished  at  the  lofty  and  sub 
stantial  stone  stables,  the  long  range  of  green 
houses,  and  at  a  farm  which  produced  nothing  ex 
cept  lawns  and  flower-beds,  ornamental  fields  of 
clover,  avenues  of  trees,  lawn-tennis  grounds,  and  a 
few  Alderneys  tethered  to  feed  among  the  trees, 
where  their  beauty  would  heighten  the  rural  and 
domestic  aspect  of  the  scene.  The  Arbusers  liked 
to  come  to  this  place  as  early  as  possible  to  escape 
the  society  exactions  of  the  city.  That  was  an 
other  theory  of  theirs.  All  their  set  in  the  city 
met  there  for  the  same  purposej 

Margaret  was  welcomed  with  open  arms. 

"We  have  been  counting  the  days,"  said  the 
elder  of  the  sisters.  "Your  luggage  has  come, 
your  rooms  are  all  ready,  and  your  coachman,  who 
has  been  here  some  days,  says  that  the  horses  need 
exercise.  Everybody  is  here,  and  we  need  you  for 
a  hundred  things." 


252  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  You  are  very  kind.  It  is  so  charming  here.  I 
knew  it  would  be,  but  I  couldn't  bear  to  shorten 
my  visit  in  Brandon." 

"Your  aunt  must  miss  you  very  much.  Is  she 
well?" 

"  Perfectly." 

"  "Wouldn't  she  have  come  with  you  ?  I've  a 
mind  to  telegraph." 

"  I  think  not.  She  is  wedded  to  quiet,  and  goes 
away  from  her  little  neighborhood  with  reluctance." 

"  So  Brandon  was  a  little  dull  ?"  said  Miss  Ar- 
buser,  with  a  shrewd  guess  at  the  truth. 

"  Oh  no,"  quickly  replied  Margaret,  shrinking  a 
little  from  what  was  in  her  own  mind;  "it  was 
restful  and  delightful ;  but  you  know  that  we  New 
England  people  take  life  rather  seriously,  and  in 
quire  into  the  reason  of  things,  and  want  an  ob 
ject  in  life." 

"A  very  good  thing  to  have,"  answered  this 
sweet  woman  of  the  world,  whose  object  was  to  go 
along  pleasantly  and  enjoy  it. 

"  But  to  have  it  all  the  time !"  Margaret  sug 
gested,  lightly,  as  she  ran  up-stalrs.  But  even  in 
this  suggestion  she  was  conscious  of  a  twinge  of 
disloyalty  to  her  former  self.  Deep  down  in  her 
heart,  coming  to  the  atmosphere  of  Lenox  was  a 
relief  from  questionings  that  a  little  disturbed  her 
at  her  old  home,  and  she  was  indignant  at  her 
self  that  it  should  be  so,  and  then  indignant  at  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  253 

suggestions  that  put  her  out  of  humor  with  herself. 
Was  it  a  sin,  she  said,  to  be  happy  and  prosperous? 

On  her  dressing-table  was  a  letter  from  her  hus 
band.  He  was  detained  in  the  city  by  a  matter  of 
importance.  He  scratched  only  a  line,  to  catch  the 
mail,  during  a  business  interview.  It  was  really 
only  a  business  interview,  and  had  no  sort  of  rela 
tion  to  Lenox  or  the  summer  gayety  there. 

Henderson  was  in  his  private  office.  The  clerks 
in  the  outer  offices,  in  the  neglige  of  summer  cos 
tumes,  winked  to  each  other  as  they  saw  old  Jerry 
Hollowell  enter  and  make  his  way  to  the  inner 
room  unannounced.  Something  was  in  the  wind. 

"  Well,  old  man,"  said  Uncle  Jerry,  in  the  cheer 
iest  manner,  coming  in,  depositing  his  hat  on  the 
table,  and  taking  a  seat  opposite  Henderson,  "  we 
seem  to  have  stirred  up  the  animals." 

"  Only  a  little  flurry,"  replied  Henderson,  laying 
down  his  pen  and  folding  a  note  he  had  just  fin 
ished  ;  "  they'll  come  to  reason." 

"  They've  got  to."  Mr.  Hollowell  drew  out  a  big 
bandanna  and  mopped  his  heated  face.  "  I've  just 
got  a  letter  from  Jorkins.  There's  the  certificates 
that  make  up  the  two-thirds — more  than  we  need, 
anyway.  No  flaw  about  that,  is  there  ?" 

"No.  I'll  put  these  with  the  balance  in  the 
safe.  It's  all  right,  if  Jorkins  has  been  discreet.  It 
may  make  a  newspaper  scandal  if  they  get  hold  of 
his  operations." 


254  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  Oh,  Jorkins  is  close.  But  he  is  a  little  over 
worked.  I  don't  know  but  it  would  do  him  good 
to  have  a  little  nervous  prostration  and  go  abroad 
for  a  while." 

"  I  guess  it  would  do  Jorkins  good  to  take  a  turn 
in  Europe  for  a  year  or  so." 

"Well,  you  write  to  him.  Give  him  a  sort  of 
commission  to  see  the  English  bondholders,  and  ex 
plain  the  situation.  They  will  appreciate  that  half 
a  loaf  is  better  than  no  bread.  What  bothers  me 
is  the  way  the  American  bondholders  take  it.  They 
kick." 

"  Let  'em  kick.  The  public  don't  care  for  a  few 
soreheads  and  impracticables  in  an  operation  that 
is  going  to  open  up  the  whole  South-west.  I've  an 
appointment  with  one  of  them  this  morning.  He 
ought  to  be  here  now." 

At  the  moment  Henderson's  private  secretary 
entered  and  laid  on  the  table  the  card  of  Mr.  John 
Hopper,  who  was  invited  to  come  in  at  once.  Mr. 
Hopper  was  a  man  of  fifty,  with  iron-gray  hair,  a 
heavy  mustache,  and  a  smooth -shaven  chin  that 
showed  resolution.  In  dress  and  manner  his  ap 
pearance  was  that  of  the  shrewd  city  capitalist — 
quiet  and  determined,  who  is  neither  to  be  deceived 
nor  bullied.  With  a  courteous  greeting  to  both  the 
men,  whom  he  knew  well,  he  took  a  seat  and  stated 
his  business. 

"  I  have  called  to  see  you,  Mr.  Henderson,  about 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  255 

the  bonds  of  the  A.  and  B.,  and  I  am  glad  to  find 


Mr.  Hollowell  here  also." 


"  What  amount  do  you  represent,  Mr.  Hopper  ?" 
asked  Henderson. 

"  With  my  own  and  my  friends',  altogether,  rising 
a  million.  What  do  you  propose  ?" 

"  You  got  our  circular  ?" 

"  Yes,  and  we  don't  accept  the  terms." 

"  I'm  sorry.     It  is  the  best  that  we  could  do." 

"  That  is,  the  best  you  would  do !" 

"  Pardon  me,  Mr.  Hopper,  the  best  we  could  do 
under  the  circumstances.  We  gave  you  your  op 
tion,  to  scale  down  on  a  fair  estimate  of  the  earn 
ings  of  the  short  line  (the  A.  and  B.),  or  to  surren 
der  your  local  bonds  and  take  new  ones  covering 
the  whole  consolidation,  or,  as  is  of  course  in  your 
discretion,  to  hold  on  and  take  the  chances." 

"Which  your  operations  have  practically  de 
stroyed." 

"  Not  at  all,  Mr.  Hopper.  We  offer  you  a  much 
better  security  on  the  whole  system  instead  of  a 
local  road." 

"  And  you  mean  to  tell  me,  Mr.  Henderson,  that 
it  is  for  our  advantage  to  exchange  a  seven  per  cent, 
bond  on  a  road  that  has  always  paid  its  interest 
promptly,  for  a  four  and  a  half  on  a  system  that  is 
manipulated  nobody  knows  how  ?  I  tell  you,  gen 
tlemen,  that  it  looks  to  outsiders  as  if  there  was 
crookedness  somewhere." 


256  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  That  is  a  rather  rough  charge,  Mr.  Hopper," 
said  Henderson,  with  a  smile. 

"  But  we  are  to  understand  that  if  we  do  not  ac 
cept  your  terms,  it's  a  freeze-out  ?" 

"  You  are  to  understand  that  we  want  to  make 
the  best  arrangement  possible  for  all  parties  in  in 
terest." 

"  How  some  of  those  interests  were  acquired  may 
be  a  question  for  the  courts,"  replied  Mr.  Hopper, 
resolutely.  "When  we  put  our  money  in  good 
seven  per  cent,  bonds,  we  propose  to  inquire  into 
the  right  of  anybody  to  demand  that  we  shall  ex 
change  them  for  four  and  a  half  per  cents,  on  other 
security." 

"  Perfectly  right,  Mr.  Hopper,"  said  Henderson, 
with  imperturbable  good  -  humor ;  "  the  transfer 
books  are  open  to  your  inspection." 

"  Well,  we  prefer  to  hold  on  to  our  bonds." 

"And  wait  for  your  interest,"  interposed  Hollo  well. 

Mr.  Hopper  turned  to  the  speaker.  "  And  while 
we  are  waiting  we  propose  to  inquire  what  has  be 
come  of  the  surplus  of  the  A.  and  B.  The  bond 
holders  had  the  first  claim  on  the  entire  property." 

"  And  we  propose  to  protect  it.  See  here,  Mr. 
Hopper,"  continued  Uncle  Jerry,  with  a  most  be 
nevolent  expression,  "  I  needn't  tell  you  that  invest 
ments  fluctuate — the  Lord  knows  mine  do!  The 
A.  and  B.  was  a  good  road.  I  know  that.  But  it 
was  going  to  be  paralleled.  We'd  got  to  parallel 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  'World.  257 

it  to  make  our  South-west  connections.  If  we  had, 
you'd  have  waited  till  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  freezes 
over  before  you  got  any  coupons  paid.  Instead  of 
that,  we  took  it  into  our  system,  and  it's  being  put 
on  a  permanent  basis.  It's  a  little  inconvenient  for 
holders,  and  they  have  got  to  stand  a  little  shrink 
age,  but  in  the  long-run  it  will  be  better  for  every 
body.  The  little  road  couldn't  stand  alone,  and  the 
day  of  big  interest  is  about  over." 

"  That  explanation  may  satisfy  you,  Mr.  Hollo- 
well,  but  it  don't  give  us  our  money,  and  I  notify 
you  that  we  shall  carry  the  matter  into  the  courts. 
Good-morning." 

"When  Mr.  Hopper  had  gone,  the  two  developers 
looked  at  each  other  a  moment  seriously. 

"  Hopper  '11  fight,"  Hollowell  said  at  last. 

"  And  we  have  got  the  surplus  to  fight  him  with," 
replied  Henderson. 

"  That's  so,"  and  Uncle  Jerry  chuckled  to  him 
self.  "  The  rats -that  are  on  the  inside  of  the  crib 
are  a  good  deal  better  off  than  the  rats  on  the  out 
side." 

"  The  reporter  of  The  Planet  wants  five  minutes," 
announced  the  secretary,  opening  the  door.  Hen 
derson  told  him  to  let  him  in. 

The  reporter  was  a  spruce  young  gentleman,  in 
a  loud  summer  suit,  with  a  rose  in  his  button-hole, 
and  the  air  of  assurance  which  befits  the  commis 
sioner  of  the  public  curiosity. 
17 


258  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  I  am  sent  by  The  Planet"  said  the  young  man, 
"to  show  you  this  and  ask  you  if  you  have  any 
thing  to  say  to  it." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  asked  Henderson. 

"  It's  about  the  A.  and  B." 

"  Yery  well.  There  is  the  president,  Mr.  Hollo- 
well.  Show  it  to  him." 

The  reporter  produced  a  long  printed  slip  and 
handed  it  to  Uncle  Jerry,  who  took  it  and  began 
to  read.  As  his  eye  ran  down  the  column  he  was 
apparently  more  and  more  interested,  and  he  let  it 
be  shown  on  his  face  that  he  was  surprised,  and 
even  a  little  astonished.  When  he  had  finished,  he 
said: 

"  Well,  my  young  friend,  how  did  you  get  hold 
of  this?" 

"  Oh,  we  have  a  way,"  said  the  reporter,  twirl 
ing  his  straw  hat  by  the  elastic,  and  looking  more 
knowing  than  old  Jerry  himself. 

"  So  I  see,"  replied  Jerry,  with  an  admiring  smile ; 
"  there  is  nothing  that  you  newspaper  folks  don't 
find  out.  It  beats  the  devil !" 

"Is  it  true,  sir?"  said  the  young  gentleman, 
elated  with  this  recognition  of  his  own  shrewdness. 

"  It  is  so  true  that  there  is  no  fun  it.  I  don't  see 
how  the  devil  you  got  hold  of  it." 

"  Have  you  any  explanations  2" 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  said  Uncle  Jerry,  musingly. 
"  If  it  is  to  come  out,  I'd  rather  The  Planet  would 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  259 

have  it  than  any  other  paper.  It's  got  some  sense, 
No ;  print  it.  It'll  be  a  big  beat  for  your  paper. 
While  you  are  about  it — I  s'pose  you'll  print  it 
anyway?"  (the  reporter  nodded) — "you  might  as 
well  have  the  whole  story." 

"  Certainly.  We'd  like  to  have  it  right.  What 
is  wrong  about  it  ?" 

"  Oh,  nothing  but  some  details.  You  have  got 
it  substantially.  There's  a  word  or  two  and  a  date 
you  are  out  on,  naturally  enough,  and  there  are  two 
or  three  little  things  that  would  be  exactly  true  if 
they  were  differently  stated." 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me  what  they  are  ?" 

"  No,"  said  Jerry,  with  a  little  reluctance ;  "  might 
as  well  have  it  all  out — eh,  Henderson?" 

And  the  old  man  took  his  pencil  and  changed 
some  dates  and  a  name  or  two,  and  gave  to  some 
of  the  sentences  a  turn  that  seemed  to  the  reporter 
only  another  way  of  saying  the  same  thing. 

"  There,  that  is  all  I  know.  Give  my  respects  to 
Mr.  Goss." 

When  the  commissioner  had  withdrawn,  Uncle 
Jerry  gave  vent  to  a  long  whistle.  Then  he  rose 
suddenly  and  called  to  the  secretary,  "  Tell  that 
reporter  to  come  back."  The  reporter  reappeared. 

"  I  was  just  thinking,  and  you  can  tell  Mr.  Goss, 
that  now  you  have  got  onto  this  thing,  you  might 
as  well  keep  the  lead  on  it.  The  public  is  inter 
ested  in  what  we  are  doing  in  the  South-west,  and 


260  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

if  you,  or  some  other  bright  fellow  who  has  got 
eyes  in  his  head,  will  go  down  there,  he  will  see 
something  that  will  astonish  him.  I'm  going  to 
morrow  in  my  private  car,  and  if  you  could  go 
along,  I  assure  you  a  good  time.  I  want  you  to 
see  for  yourself,  and  I  guess  you  would.  Don't 
take  my  word.  I  can't  give  you  any  passes,  and 
I  know  you  don't  want  any,  but  you  can  just  get 
into  my  private  car  and  no  expense  to  anybody,  and 
see  all  there  is  to  be  seen.  Ask  Goss,  and  let  me 
know  to-night."  .. 

The  young  fellow  went  off  feeling  several  inches 
higher  than  when  he  came  in.  Such  is  the  power 
of  a  good  address,  and  such  is  the  omnipotence 
of  the  great  organ.  Mr.  Jerry  Hollowell  sat  down 
and  began  to  fan  himself.  It  was  very  hot  in  the 
office. 

"  Seems  to  me  it's  lunch  -  time.  Great  Scott ! 
what  a  lot  of  time  I  used  to  waste  fighting  the 
newspapers !  That  thing  would  have  played  the 
devil  as  it  stood.  It  will  be  comparatively  harm 
less  now.  It  will  make  a  little  talk,  but  there  is 
nothing  to  get  hold  of.  Queer,  about  the  differ 
ence  of  a  word  or  two.  Come,  old  man,  I'm 
thirsty." 

"Uncle  Jerry,"  said  Henderson,  taking  his  arm 
as  they  went  out,  "  you  ought  to  be  President  of 
the  United  States." 

"  The  salary  is  too  small,"  said  Uncle  Jerry. 


A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  261 

Of  all  this  there  was  nothing  to  write  to  Mar 
garet,  who  was  passing  her  time  agreeably  in  the 
Berkshire  hills,  a  little  impatient  for  her  husband's 
arrival,  postponed  from  day  to  day,  and  full  of 
sympathy  for  him,  condemned  to  the  hot  city  and 
the  harassment  of  a  business  the  magnitude  of 
which  gave  him  the  obligations  and  the  character 
of  a  public  man.  Henderson  sent  her  instead  a 
column  from  The  Planet  devoted  to  a  description 
of  his  private  library.  Mr.  Goss,  the  editor,  who 
was  college  bred,  had  been  round  to  talk  with 
Henderson  about  the  South-west  trip,  and  the  con 
versation  drifting  into  other  matters,  Henderson 
had  taken  from  his  desk  and  shown  him  a  rare  old 
book  which  he  had  picked  up  the  day  before  in  a 
second-hand  shop.  This  led  to  further  talk  about 
Henderson's  hobby,  and  the  editor  had  asked  per 
mission  to  send  a  reporter  down  to  make  a  note 
of  Henderson's  collection.  It  would  make  a  good 
midsummer  item,  "  The  Stock  -  Broker  in  Litera 
ture,"  "The  Private  Tastes  of  a  Millionaire/'  etc. 
The  column  got  condensed  into  a  portable  para 
graph,  and  went  the  rounds  of  the  press,  and 
changed  the  opinions  of  a  good  many  people  about 
the  great  operator — he  wasn't  altogether  devoted 
to  vulgar  money -making.  Uncle  Jerry  himself 
read  the  column  with  appreciation  of  its  value. 
"  It  diverts  the  public  mind,"  he  said.  He  himself 
had  recently  diverted  the  public  mind  by  the  gift 


262  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

of  a  bell  to  the  Norembega  Theological  (colored) 
Institute,  and  the  paragraph  announcing  the  fact 
conveyed  the  impression  that  while  Uncle  Jerry 
was  a  canny  old  customer,  his  heart  was  on  the 
right  side.  "  There  are  worse  men  than  Uncle 
Jerry  who  are  not  worth  a  cent,"  was  one  of  the 
humorous  paragraphs  tacked  on  to  the  item. 

Margaret  was  not  alone  in  finding  the  social  at 
mosphere  of  Lenox  as  congenial  as  its  natural  beau 
ties.  Mrs.  Laflamme  declared  that  it  was  the  per 
fection  of  existence  for  a  couple  of  months,  one  in 
early  summer  and  another  in  the  golden  autumn 
with  its  pathetic  note  of  the  falling  curtain  drop 
ping  upon  the  dream  of  youth.  Mrs.  Laflamme 
was  not  a  sentimental  person,  but  she  was  capable 
of  drifting  for  a  moment  into  a  poetic  mood — a 
great  charm  in  a  woman  of  her  vivacity  and  air 
of  the  w^orld.  Margaret  remembered  her  very  dis 
tinctly,  although  she  had  only  exchanged  a  word 
with  her  at  the  memorable  dinner  in  I^ew  York 
when  Henderson  had  revealed  her  feelings  to  her 
self.  Mrs.  Laflamme  had  the  immense  advantage 
—it  seemed  so  to  her  after  five  years  of  widowhood 
—of  being  a  widow  on  the  sunny  side  of  thirty- 
five.  If  she  had  lost  some  illusions  she  had  gained 
a  great  deal  of  knowledge,  and  she  had  no  fever 
ish  anxiety  about  what  life  would  bring  her.  Al 
though  she  would  not  put  it  in  this  way  to  herself, 
she  could  look  about  her  deliberately,  enjoying  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  263 

prospect,  and  please  herself.  Her  position  had  two 
advantages — experience  and  opportunity.  A  young 
woman  unmarried,  she  said,  always  has  the  uneasy 
sense  of  the  possibility — well,  it  is  impossible  to  es 
cape  slang,  and  she  said  it  with  the  merriest  laugh 
— the  possibility  of  being  left.  A  day  or  two  after 
Margaret's  arrival  she  had  driven  around  to  call  in 
her  dog-cart,  looking  as  fresh  as  a  daisy  in  her  sun- 
hat.  She  held  the  reins,  but  her  seat  was  shared 
by  Mr.  Fox  McNaughton,  the  most  useful  man  in 
the  village,  indispensable  indeed ;  a  bachelor,  with 
no  intentions,  no  occupation,  no  ambition  (except 
to  lead  the  german),  who  could  mix  a  salad,  brew 
a  punch,  organize  a  picnic,  and  chaperon  anything 
in  petticoats  with  entire  propriety,  without  regard 
to  age.  And  he  had  a  position  of  social  authority. 
This  eminence  Mr.  Fox  McNaughton  had  attained 
by  always  doing  the  correct  thing.  The  obligation 
of  society  to  such  men  is  never  enough  acknowl 
edged.  While  they  are  trusted  and  used,  and 
worked  to  death,  one  is  apt  to  hear  them  spoken 
of  in  a  deprecatory  tone. 

"  You  hold  the  reins  a  moment,  please.  No,  I 
don't  want  any  help,"  she  said,  as  she  jumped  down 
with  an  elastic  spring,  and  introduced  him  to  Mar 
garet.  "  I've  got  Mr.  McNaughton  in  training,  and 
am  thinking  of  bringing  him  out." 

She  walked  in  with  Margaret,  chatting  about  the 
view  and  the  house  and  the  divine  weather. 


264:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  And  your  husband  has  not  come  yet  ?" 

"  He  may  come  any  day.  I  think  business  might 
suspend  in  the  summer." 

"So  do  I.  But  then,  what  would  become  of 
Lenox  ?  It  is  rather  hard  on  the  men,  only  I  dare 
say  they  like  it.  Don't  you  think  Mr.  Henderson 
would  like  a  place  here  ?" 

"  He  cannot  help  being  pleased  with  Lenox." 

"  I'm  sure  he  would  if  you  are.  I  have  hardly 
seen  him  since  that  evening  at  the  Stotts'.  Can 
I  tell  you?  —  I  almost  had  five  minutes  of  envy 
that  evening.  You  won't  mind  it  in  such  an  old 
woman  ?" 

"  I  should  rather  trust  your  heart  than  your  age, 
Mrs.  Laflamme,"  said  Margaret,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Yes,  my  heart  is  as  old  as  my  face.  But  I  had 
a  feeling,  seeing  you  walk  away  that  evening  into 
the  conservatory.  I  knew  what  was  coming.  I 
think  I  have  discovered  a  great  secret,  Mrs.  Hen 
derson — to  be  able  to  live  over  again  in  other  peo 
ple.  By-the-way,  what  has  become  of  that  quiet 
Englishman,  Mr.  Lyon  ?" 

"  He  has  come  into  his  title.  He  is  the  Earl  of 
Chisholm." 

"  Dear  me,  how  stupid  in  us  not  to  have  taken  a 
sense  of  that !  And  the  Eschelles — do  you  know 
anything  of  the  Eschelles?" 

"  Yes ;  they  are  at  their  house  in  Newport." 

"  Do  you  think  there  was  anything  between  Miss 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  265 

Eschelle  and  Mr.  Lyon  ?  I  saw  her  afterwards 
several  times." 

"  Not  that  I  ever  heard.  Miss  Eschelle  says  that 
she  is  thoroughly  American  in  her  tastes." 

"  Then  her  tastes  are  not  quite  conformed  to  her 
style.  That  girl  might  be  anything  —  Queen  of 
Spain,  or  coryphee  in  the  opera  ballet.  She  is  clever 
as  clever.  One  always  expects  to  hear  of  her  as  the 
heroine  of  an  adventure." 

"  Didn't  you  say  you  knew  her  in  Europe  ?" 

"  No.  We  heard  of  her  and  her  mother  every 
where.  She  was  very  independent.  She  had  the 
sort  of  reputation  to  excite  curiosity.  But  I  no 
ticed  that  the  men  in  New  York  were  a  little  afraid 
of  her.  She  is  a  woman  who  likes  to  drive  very 
near  the  edge." 

Mrs.  Laflamme  rose.  "  I  must  not  keep  Mr. 
McNaughton  waiting  for  any  more  of  my  gossip. 
We  expect  you  and  the  Misses  Arbuser  this  after 
noon.  I  warn  you  it  will  be  dull.  I  should  like  to 
hear  of  some  summer  resort  where  the  men  are 
over  sixteen  and  under  sixty." 

Mrs.  Laflamme  liked  to  drive  near  the  edge  as 
much  as  Carmen  did,  and  this  piquancy  was  unde 
niably  an  attraction  in  her  case.  But  there  was 
this  difference  between  the  two :  there  was  a  con 
fidence  that  Mrs.  Laflamme  would  never  drive  over 
the  edge,  whereas  no  one  could  tell  what  sheer  Car 
men  might  not  suddenly  take.  A  woman's  reputa- 


266  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

tion  is  almost  as  much  affected  by  the  expectation 
of  what  she  may  do  as  by  anything  she  has  done. 
It  was  Fox  McNaughton  who  set  up  the  dictum 
that  a  woman  may  do  almost  anything  if  it  is 
known  that  she  draws  a  line  somewhere. 

The  lawn  party  was  not  at  all  dull  to  Margaret. 
In  the  first  place,  she  received  a  great  deal  of  atten 
tion.  Henderson's  name  was  becoming  very  well 
known,  and  it  was  natural  that  the  splendor  of  his 
advancing  fortune  should  be  reflected  in  the  person 
of  his  young  wife,  whose  loveliness  was  enhanced 
by  her  simple  enjoyment  of  the  passing  hour.  Then 
the  toilets  of  the  women  were  so  fresh  and  charm 
ing,  the  colors  grouped  so  prettily  on  the  green 
sward,  the  figures  of  the  slender  girls  playing  at 
tennis  or  lounging  on  the  benches  under  the  trees, 
recalled  scenes  from  the  classic  poets.  It  was  all 
so  rich  and  refined.  Xor  did  she  miss  the  men  of 
military  age,  whose  absence  Mrs.  Laflamme  had  de 
plored,  for  she  thought  of  her  husband.  And,  be 
sides,  she  found  even  the  college  boys  (who  are 
always  spoken  of  as  men)  amusing,  and  the  elder 
ly  gentlemen  —  upon  whom  watering-place  socie 
ty  throws  much  responsibility — gallant,  facetious, 
complimentary,  and  active  in  whatever  was  afoot. 
Their  boyishness,  indeed,  contrasted  with  the  grav 
ity  of  the  undergraduates,  who  took  themselves 
very  seriously,  were  civil  to  the  young  ladies,  confi 
dential  with  the  married  women,  and  had  generally 


A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  267 

a  certain  reserve  and  dignity  which  belong  to  per 
sons  upon  whom  such  heavy  responsibility  rests. 
There  were,  to  be  sure,  men  who  looked  bored,  and 
women  who  were  listless,  missing  the  stimulus  of 
any  personal  interest ;  but  the  scene  was  so  animat 
ed,  the  weather  so  propitious,  that,  on  the  whole,  a 
person  must  be  very  cynical  not  to  find  the  occasion 
delightful. 

There  was  a  young  novelist  present  whose  first 
story,  "  The  Girl  I  Left  Behind  Me,"  had  made  a 
hit  the  last  season.  It  was  thought  to  take  a  pro 
found  hold  upon  life,  because  it  was  a  book  that 
could  not  be  read  aloud  in  a  mixed  company.  Mar 
garet  was  very  much  interested  in  him,  although 
Mr.  Summers  Bass  was  not  her  idea  of  an  imagi 
native  writer.  He  was  a  stout  young  gentleman, 
with  very  black  hair  and  small  black  eyes,  to 
which  it  was  difficult  to  give  a  melancholy  cast 
even  by  an  habitual  frown.  Mr.  Bass  dressed  him 
self  scrupulously  in  the  fashion,  was  very  exact  in 
his  pronunciation,  careful  about  his  manner,  and 
had  the  air  of  a  little  weariness,  of  the  responsi 
bility  of  one  looking  at  life.  It  was  only  at  rare 
moments  that  his  face  expressed  intensity  of  feel 
ing. 

"  It  is  a  very  pretty  scene.  I  suppose,  Mr.  Bass, 
that  you  are  making  studies,"  said  Margaret,  by 
way  of  opening  a  conversation. 

"No;  hardly  that.     One  must  always  observe. 


268  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

It  gets  to  be  a  habit.     The  thing  is  to  see  reality 
under  appearances." 

"  Then  you  would  call  yourself  a  realist  ?" 
Mr.  Bass  smiled.     "  That  is  a  slang  term,  Mrs. 
Henderson.     What  you  want  is  nature,  color,  pas 
sion — to  pierce  the  artificialities." 

"  But  you  must  describe  appearance." 
"  Certainly,  to  an  extent — form,  action,  talk  as  it 
is,  even  trivialities — especially  the  trivialities,  for 
life  is  made  up  of  the  trivial." 

"  But  suppose  that  does  not  interest  me  ?" 
"  Pardon  me,  Mrs.  Henderson,  that  is  because  you 
are  used  to  the  conventional,  the  selected.     Nature 
is  always  interesting." 
"  I  do  not  find  it  so." 

"  No  ?  Nature  has  been  covered  up  ;  it  has  been 
idealized.  Look  yonder,"  and  Mr.  Bass  pointed 
across  the  lawn.  "  See  that  young  woman  upon 
whom  the  sunlight  falls  standing  waiting  her  turn. 
See  the  quivering  of  the  eyelids,  the  heaving  of  the 
chest,  the  opening  lips  ;  note  the  curve  of  her  waist 
from  the  shoulder,  and  the  line  rounding  into  the 
fall  of  the  folds  of  the  Austrian  cashmere.  I  try  to 
saturate  myself  with  that  form,  to  impress  myself 
with  her  every  attitude  and  gesture,  her  color,  her 
movement,  and  then  I  shall  imagine  the  form  under 
the  influence  of  passion.  Every  detail  will  tell.  1 
do  not  find  unimportant  the  tie  of  her  shoe.  The 
picture  will  be  life." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  269 

"  But  suppose,  Mr.  Bass,  when  you  come  to  speak 
with  her,  you  find  that  she  has  no  ideas,  and  talks 
slang." 

"All  the  better.  It  shows  what  we  are,  what 
our  society  is.  And  besides,  Mrs.  Henderson,  near 
ly  everybody  has  the  capacity  of  being  wicked ;  that 
is  to  say,  of  expressing  emotion." 

"  You  take  a  gloomy  view,  Mr.  Bass." 

"  I  take  no  view,  Mrs.  Henderson.  My  ambition 
is  to  record.  It  will  not  help  matters  by  pretend 
ing  that  people  are  better  than  they  are." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Bass,  you  may  be  quite  right,  but  I 
am  not  going  to  let  you  spoil  my  enjoyment  of  this 
lovely  scene,"  said  Margaret,  moving  away.  Mr. 
Bass  watched  her  until  she  disappeared,  and  then 
entered  in  his  note-book  a  phrase  for  future  use — 
"  The  prosperous  propriety  of  a  pretty  plutocrat." 
He  was  gathering  materials  for  his  forthcoming 
book,  "  The  Last  Sigh  of  the  Prude." 

The  whole  world  knows  how  delightful  Lenox  is. 
It  even  has  a  club  where  the  men  can  take  refuge 
from  the  exactions  of  society,  as  in  the  city.  The 
town  is  old  enough  to  have  "histories";  there  is  a 
romance  attached  to  nearly  every  estate,  a  tragedy 
of  beauty,  and  money,  and  disappointment ;  great 
writers  have  lived  here,  families  whose  names  were 
connected  with  our  early  politics  and  diplomacy ; 
there  is  a  tradition  of  a  society  of  wit  and  letters, 
of  women  whose  charms  were  enhanced  by  a  spice 


270  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

of  adventure,  of  men  whose  social  brilliancy  ended 
in  misanthropy.  All  this  gave  a  background  of  dis 
tinction  to  the  present  gayety,  luxury,  and  adapta 
tion  of  the  unsurpassed  loveliness  of  nature  to  the 
refined  fashion  of  the  age. 

Here,  if  anywhere,  one  could  be  above  worry, 
above  the  passion  of  envy ;  for  did  not  every  new 
"improvement"  and  every  new  refinement  in  living 
add  to  the  importance  of  every  member  of  this  fa 
vored  community  ?  For  Margaret  it  was  all  a  pag 
eant  of  beauty.  The  Misses  Arbuser  talked  about 
the  quality  of  the  air,  the  variety  of  the  scenery, 
the  exhilaration  of  the  drives,  the  freedom  from 
noise  and  dust,  the  country  quiet.  There  were  the 
morning  calls,  the  intellectual  life  of  the  reading 
clubs,  the  tennis  parties,  the  afternoon  teas,  com 
bined  with  charming  drives  from  one  elegant  place 
to  another ;  the  siestas,  the  idle  swinging  in  ham 
mocks,  with  the  latest  magazine  from  which  to  get 
a  topic  for  dinner,  the  mild  excitement  of  a  tete-a- 
tete  which  might  discover  congenial  tastes  or  run 
on  into  an  interesting  attachment.  Half  the  charm 
of  life,  says  a  philosopher,  is  in  these  personal  ex 
periments. 

When  Henderson  came,  as  he  did  several  times 
for  a  few  days,  Margaret's  happiness  was  complete. 
She  basked  in  the  sun  of  his  easy  enjoyment  of  life. 
She  liked  to  take  him  about  with  her,  and  see  the 
welcome  in  all  companies  of  a  man  so  handsome, 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  271 

so  natural  and  cordial,  as  her  husband.  Especially 
did  she  like  the  consideration  in  which  he  was  evi 
dently  held  at  the  club,  where  the  members  gath 
ered  about  him  to  listen  to  his  racy  talk  and  catch 
points  about  the  market.  She  liked  to  think  that 
he  was  not  a  women's  man.  He  gave  her  his  ver 
sion  of  some  recent  transactions  that  had  been  com 
mented  on  in  the  newspapers,  and  she  was  indig 
nant  over  the  insinuations  about  him.  It  was  the 
price,  he  said,  that  everybody  had  to  pay  for  suc 
cess.  Why  shouldn't  he,  she  reflected,  make  money  ? 
Everybody  would  if  they  could,  and  no  one  knew 
how  generous  he  was.  If  she  had  been  told  that 
the  family  of  Jerry  Hollowell  thought  of  him  in 
the  same  way,  she  would  have  said  that  there  was 
a  world-wide  difference  in  the  *two  men.  Insensi 
bly  she  was  losing  the  old  standards  she  used  to 
apply  to  success.  Here  in  Lenox,  in  this  prosper 
ous,  agreeable  world,  there  was  nothing  to  remind 
her  of  them. 

In  her  enjoyment  of  this  existence  without  care, 
I  do  not  suppose  it  occurred  to  her  to  examine  if 
her  ideals  had  been  lowered.  Sometimes  Hender 
son  had  a  cynical,  mocking  tone  about  the  world, 
which  she  reproved  with  a  caress,  but  he  was  al 
ways  tolerant  and  good-natured.  If  he  had  told 
her  that  he  acted  upon  the  maxim  that  every  man 
and  woman  has  his  and  her  price  she  would  have 
been  shocked,  but  she  was  getting  to  make  allow- 


272  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

ances  that  she  would  not  have  made  before  she 
learned  to  look  at  the  world  through  his  eyes.    She 
j  could  see  that  the  Brandon  circle  was  over-scrupu- 
I  lous.     Her  feeling  of  this  would  have  been  con 
firmed  if  she  had  known  that  when  her  aunt  read 
the  letter  announcing  a  month's  visit  to  the  Es- 
chelles  in  Newport,  she  laid  it  down  with  a  sigh. 


XVI. 

UNCLE  JERKY  was  sitting  on  the  piazza  of  the 
Ocean  House,  absorbed  in  the  stock  reports  of  a 
New  York  journal,  answering  at  random  the  occa 
sional  observations  of  his  wife,  who  filled  up  one  of 
the  spacious  chairs  near  him — a  florid  woman,  with 
diamonds  in  her  ears,  who  had  the  resolute  air  of 
enjoying  herself.  It  was  an  August  Newport  morn 
ing,  when  there  is  a  salty  freshness  in  the  air,  but  a 
temperature  that  discourages  exertion. 

A  pony  phaeton  dashed  by  containing  two  ladies. 
The  ponies  were  cream-colored,  with  flowing  manes 
and  tails,  and  harness  of  black  and  gold  ;  the  phae 
ton  had  yellow  wheels  with  a  black  body ;  the  di 
minutive  page  with  folded  arms,  on  the  seat  behind, 
wore  a  black  jacket  and  yellow  breeches.  The  lady 
who  held  the  yellow  silk  reins  was  a  blonde  with 
dark  eyes.  As  they  flashed  by,  the  lady  on  the 
seat  with  her  bowed,  and  Mr.  Hollowell  returned 
the  salute. 

" Who's  that?"  asked  Mrs.  Hollo weU. 

"  That's  Mrs.  Henderson." 

"And  the  other  one?" 
18 


274  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  I  don't  know  her.  She  knows  how  to  handle 
the  ribbons,  though." 

"  I  seen  her  at  the  Casino  the  other  night,  before 
you  come,  with  that  tandem-driving  count.  I  don't 
believe  he's  any  more  count  than  you  are." 

"  Oh,  he's  all  right.  He's  one  of  the  Spanish  le 
gation.  This  is  just  the  place  for  counts.  I  shouldn't 
wonder,  Maria,  if  you'd  like  to  be  a  countess.  We 
can  afford  it  —  the  Countess  Jeremiah,  eh?"  and 
Uncle  Jerry's  eyes  twinkled. 

"  Don't  be  a  goose,  Mr.  Hollowell,"  bringing  her 
fat  hands  round  in  front  of  her,  so  that  she  could 
see  the  sparkle  of  the  diamond  rings  on  them. 
"  She's  as  pretty  as  a  picture,  that  girl,  but  I 
should  think  a  good  wind  would  blow  her  away. 
I  shouldn't  want  to  have  her  drive  me  round." 

"  Jorkins  has  sailed,"  said  Mr.  Hollowell,  look 
ing  up  from  his  paper.  "The  Planet  reporter  tried 
to  interview  him,  but  he  played  sick,  said  he  was 
just  going  over  and  right  back  for  a  change.  I 
guess  it  will  be  long  enough  before  they  get  a 
chance  at  him  again." 

"I'm  glad  he's  gone.  I  hope  the  papers  will 
mind  their  own  business  for  a  spell." 

The  house  of  the  Eschelles  was  on  the  sea,  look 
ing  over  a  vast  sweep  of  lawn  to  the  cliff  and  the 
dimpling  blue  water  of  the  first  beach.  It  was 
known  as  the  Yellow  Villa.  Coming  from  the  ele 
gance  of  Lenox,  Margaret  was  surprised  at  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  275 

magnificence  and  luxury  of  this  establishment,  the 
great  drawing-rooms,  the  spacious  chambers,  the 
wide  verandas,  the  pictures,  the  flowers,  the  charm 
ing  nooks  and  recessed  windows,  with  handy  book 
stands,  and  tables  littered  with  the  freshest  and 
most-talked-of  issues  from  the  press  of  Paris,  Ma 
drid,  and  London.  Carmen  had  taken  a  hint  from 
Henderson's  bachelor  apartment,  which  she  had 
visited  once  with  her  mother,  and  though  she  had 
no  literary  taste,  further  than  to  dip  in  here  and 
there  to  what  she  found  toothsome  and  exciting  in 
various  languages,  yet  she  knew  the  effect  of  the 
atmosphere  of  books,  and  she  had  a  standing  order 
at  a  book-shop  for  whatever  was  fresh  and  likely 
to  come  into  notice. 

And  Carmen  was  a  delightful  hostess,  both  be 
cause  her  laziness  gave  an  air  of  repose  to  the 
place,  and  she  had  the  tact  never  to  appear  to  make 
any  demands  upon  her  guests,  and  because  she 
knew  when  to  be  piquant  and  exhibit  personal  in 
terest,  and  when  to  show  even  a  little  abandon  of 
vivacity.  Society  flowed  through  her  house  with 
out  any  obstructions.  It  was  scarcely  ever  too  early 
and  never  too  late  for  visitors.  Those  who  were 
intimate  used  to  lounge  in  and  take  up  a  book,  or 
pass  an  hour  on  the  veranda,  even  when  none  of 
the  family  were  at  home.  Men  had  a  habit  of 
dropping  in  for  a  five  o'clock  cup  of  tea,  and  where 
the  men  went  the  women  needed  little  urging  to 


276  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

follow.  At  first  there  had  been  some  reluctance 
about  recognizing  the  Eschelles  fully,  and  there 
were  still  houses  that  exhibited  a  certain  reserve 
towards  them,  but  the  example  of  going  to  this 
house  set  by  the  legations,  the  members  of  which 
enjoyed  a  chat  with  Miss  Eschelle  in  the  free 
dom  of  their  own  tongues  and  the  freedom  of  her 
tongue,  went  far  to  break  down  this  barrier.  The}r 
were  spoken  of  occasionally  as  "those  Eschelles," 
but  almost  everybody  Avent  there,  and  perhaps 
enjoyed  it  all  the  more  because  there  had  been  a 
shade  of  doubt  about  it. 

Margaret's  coming  was  a  good  card  for  Carmen. 
The  little  legend  about  her  French  ancestry  in 
Newport,  and  the  romantic  marriage  in  Rocham- 
beau's  time,  had  been  elaborated  in  the  local  news 
paper,  and  when  she  appeared  the  ancestral  flavor, 
coupled  with  the  knowledge  of  Henderson's  ac 
cumulating  millions,  lent  an  interest  and  a  certain 
charm  to  whatever  she  said  and  did.  The  Eschelle 
house  became  more  attractive  than  ever  before,  so 
much  so  that  Mrs.  Eschelle  declared  that  she  longed 
for  the  quiet  of  Paris.  To  her  motherly  apprehen 
sion  there  was  no  result  in  this  whirl  of  gayety,  no 
serious  intention  discoverable  in  any  of  the  train 
that  followed  Carmen.  "  You  act,  child,"  she  said, 
"  as  if  youth  would  last  forever." 

Margaret  entered  into  this  life  as  if  she  had  been 
born  to  it.  Perhaps  she  was.  Perhaps  most  people 


A  Little  Journey  In  the  World.  277 

never  find  the  career  for  which  they  are  fitted, 
and  struggle  along  at  cross  -  purposes  with  them 
selves.  We  all  thought  that  Margaret's  natural 
bent  was  for  some  useful  and  self -sacrificing  work 
in  the  world,  and  never  could  have  imagined  that 
under  any  circumstances  she  would  develop  into  a 
woman  of  fashion. 

"I  intend  to  read  a  great  deal  this  month,"  she 
said  to  Carmen  on  her  arrival,  as  she  glanced  at 
the  litter  of  books. 

"That  was  my  intention,"  replied  Carmen; 
"now  we  can  read  together.  I'm  taking  Spanish 
lessons  of  Count  Crispo.  I've  learned  two  Spanish 
poems  and  a  Castilian  dance." 

"Is  he  married?" 

"  Not  now.  He  told  me,  when  he  was  teaching 
me  the  steps,  that  his  heart  was  buried  in  Seville." 

"  He  seems  to  be  full  of  sentiment." 

"  Perhaps  that  is  because  his  salary  is  so  small. 
Mamma  says,  of  all  things  an  impecunious  count ! 
But  he  is  amusing." 

"  But  what  do  you  care  for  money  ?"  asked  Mar 
garet,  by  way  of  testing  Carmen's  motives. 

"  Nothing,  my  dear.  But  deliver  me  from  a  hus 
band  who  is  poor ;  he  would  certainly  be  a  tyrant. 
Besides,  if  I  ever  marry,  it  will  be  with  an  Amer 
ican." 

"  But  suppose  you  fall  in  love  with  a  poor  man  ?" 

"  That  would  be  against  my  principles.     Never 


278  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

fall  below  your  ideals  —  that  is  what  I  heard  a 
speaker  say  at  the  Town  and  Country  Club,  and 
that  is  my  notion.  There  is  no  safety  for  you  if 
you  lose  your  principles." 

"  That  depends  upon  what  they  are,"  said  Mar 
garet,  in  the  same  bantering  tone. 

"That  sounds  like  good  Mr.  Lyon.  I  suspect 
he  thought  I  hadn't  any.  Mamma  said  I  tried  to 
shock  him ;  but  he  shocked  me.  Do  you  think  you 
could  live  with  such  a  man  twenty-four  hours,  even 
if  he  had  his  crown  on  ?" 

"I  can  imagine  a  great  deal  worse  husbands  than 
the  Earl  of  Chisholm." 

"  Well,  I  haven't  any  imagination." 

There  was  no  reading  that  day  nor  the  next. 
In  the  morning  there  was  a  drive  with  the  ponies 
through  town,  in  the  afternoon  in  the  carriage  by 
the  sea,  with  a  couple  of  receptions,  the  five  o'clock 
tea,  with  its  chatter,  and  in  the  evening  a  dinner 
party  for  Margaret.  One  day  sufficed  to  launch 
her,  and  thereafter  Carmen  had  only  admiration 
for  the  unflagging  spirit  which  Margaret  displayed. 
"If  you  were  only  unmarried,"  she  said,  "what 
larks  we  could  have !"  Margaret  looked  grave  at 
this,  but  only  for  a  moment,  for  she  well  knew 
that  she  could  not  please  her  husband  better  than 
by  enjoying  the  season  to  the  full.  He  never  crit 
icised  her  for  taking  the  world  as  it  is;  and  she 
confessed  to  herself  that  life  went  very  pleasantly 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  279 

in  a  house  where  there  were  never  any  questions 
raised  about  duties.  The  really  serious  thought  in 
Carmen's  mind  was  that  perhaps  after  all  a  woman 
had  no  real  freedom  until  she  was  married.  And 
she  began  to  be  interested  in  Margaret's  enjoy 
ment  of  the  world. 

It  was  not,  after  all,  a  new  world,  only  newly 
arranged,  like  another  scene  in  the  same  play.  The 
actors,  who  came  and  went,  were  for  the  most  part 
the  acquaintances  of  the  Washington  winter,  and 
the  callers  and  diners  and  opera-goers  and  chari 
ty  managers  of  the  city.  In  these  days  Margaret 
was  quite  at  home  with  the  old  set :  the  British 
Minister,  the  Belgian,  the  French,  the  Spanish,  the 
Mexican,  the  German,  and  the  Italian,  with  their 
families  and  attaches — nothing  was  wanting,  not 
even  the  Chinese  mandarin,  who  had  rooms  at  the 
hotel,  going  about  everywhere  in  the  conscientious 
discharge  of  his  duties  as  ambassador  to  American 
society,  a  great  favorite  on  account  of  his  silk  ap 
parel,  which  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  clumsy 
woman,  and  the  everlasting,  three-thousand-year- 
old  smile  on  his  broad  face,  punctiliously  leaving 
in  every  house  a  big  flaring  red  piece  of  paper 
which  the  ladies  pinned  up  for  a  decoration;  a 
picture  of  helpless,  child-like  enjoyment,  and  almost 
independent  of  the  interpreter  who  followed  him 
about,  when  he  had  learned,  upon  being  introduced 
to  a  lady,  or  taking  a  cup  of  tea,  to  say  "  good-bye  " 


280  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

as  distinctly  as  an  articulating  machine;  a  truly 
learned  man,  setting  an  example  of  civility  and 
perfect  self-possession,  but  keenly  observant  of  the 
oddities  of  the  social  life  to  which  his  missionary 
government  had  accredited  him.  One  would  like 
to  have  heard  the  comments  of  the  minister  and 
his  suite  upon  our  manners  ;  but  perhaps  they  were 
too  polite  to  make  any  even  in  their  seclusion. 
Certain  it  is  that  no  one  ever  heard  any  of  the 
legation  express  any  opinion  but  the  most  suave 
and  flattering. 

And  yet  they  must  have  been  amazed  at  the 
activity  of  this  season  of  repose,  the  endurance  of 
American  women  who  rode  to  the  fox  meets,  were 
excited  spectators  of  the  polo,  played  lawn-tennis, 
were  incessantly  dining  and  calling,  and  sat  through 
long  dinners  served  with  the  formality  and  dulness 
and  the  swarms  of  liveried  attendants  of  a  royal 
feast.  And  they  could  not  but  admire  the  young 
men,  who  did  not  care  for  politics  or  any  business 
beyond  the  chances  of  the  stock  exchange,  but 
who  expended  an  immense  amount  of  energy  in 
the  dangerous  polo  contests,  in  riding  at  fences 
after  the  scent-bag,  in  driving  tandems  and  four-in- 
hands,  and  yet  had  time  to  dress  in  the  cut  and 
shade  demanded  by  every  changing  hour. 

Formerly  the  annual  chronicle  of  this  summer 
pageant,  in  which  the  same  women  appeared  day 
after  day,  and  the  same  things  were  done  over  and 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  281 

over  again,  Margaret  used  to  read  with  a  contempt 
for  the  life ;  but  that  she  enjoyed  it,  now  she  was 
a  part  of  it,  shows  that  the  chroniclers  for  the 
press  were  unable  to  catch  the  spirit  of  it,  the  ex 
citement  of  the  personal  encounters  that  made  it 
new  every  day.  Looking  at  a  ball  is  quite  another 
thing  from  dancing. 

"  Yes,  it  is  lively  enough,"  said  Mr.  Ponsonby, 
one  afternoon  when  they  had  returned  from  the 
polo  grounds  and  were  seated  on  the  veranda.  Mr. 
Ponsonby  was  a  middle-aged  Englishman,  whose 
diplomatic  labors  at  various  courts  had  worn  a 
bald  spot  on  his  crown.  Carmen  had  not  yet 
come,  and  they  were  waiting  for  a  cup  of  tea. 
"  And  they  ride  well ;  but  I  think  I  rather  prefer 
the  Wild  West  Show." 

"  You  Englishmen,"  Margaret  retorted,  "  seem  to 
like  the  uncivilized.  Are  you  all  tired  of  civiliza 
tion?" 

"  Of  some  kinds.  When  we  get  through  with 
the  London  season,  you  know,  Mrs.  Henderson,  we 
like  to  rough  it,  as  you  call  it,  for  some  months. 
But,  'pon  my  word,  I  can't  see  much  difference  be 
tween  Washington  and  Newport." 

"  We  might  get  up  a  Wild  West  Show  here,  or  a 
prize-fight,  for  you.  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Ponsonby, 
I  think  it  will  take  full  another  century  for  women 
to  really  civilize  men." 

"  How  so  ?" 


282  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  Get  the  cruelty  and  love  of  brutal  sports  out 
of  them." 

"  Then  you'd  cease  to  like  us.  Nothing  is  so  in 
sipid,  I  fancy,  to  a  woman  as  a  man  made  in  her 
own  image." 

"Well,  what  have  you  against  Newport?" 

"  Against  it  ?  I'm  sure  nothing  could  be  better 
than  this."  And  Mr.  Ponsonby  allowed  his  advent 
urous  eyes  to  rest  for  a  moment  upon  Margaret's 
trim  figure,  until  he  saw  a  flush  in  her  face.  "  This 
prospect,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  sea,  where  a 
few  sails  took  the  slant  rays  of  the  sun. 

" '  Where  every  prospect  pleases,'  "  quoted  Mar 
garet,  "  '  and  only  man— 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mrs.  Henderson ;  men  are  not 
to  be  considered.  The  women  in  Newport  would 
make  the  place  a  paradise  even  if  it  were  a  desert." 

"  That  is  another  thing  I  object  to  in  men." 

"What's  that V 

"Flattery.  You  don't  say  such  things  to  each 
other  at  the  club.  What  is  your  objection  to  New 
port?" 

"  I  didn't  say  I  had  any.  But  if  you  compel  me 
— well,  the  whole  thing  seems  to  be  a  kind  of  imi 
tation." 

"  How «" 

"  Oh,  the  way  things  go  on — the  steeple-chasing 
and  fox-hunting,  and  the  carts,  and  the  style  of  the 
swell  entertainments.  Is  that  ill-natured  ?" 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  283 

"  Not  at  all.  I  like  candor,  especially  English 
candor.  But  there  is  Miss  Eschelle." 

Carmen  drove  up  with  Count  Crispo,  threw  the 
reins  to  the  groom,  and  reached  the  ground  with  a 
touch  on  the  shoulder  of  the  count,  who  had  alight 
ed  to  help  her  down. 

"  Carmen,"  said  Margaret,  "  Mr.  Ponsonby  says 
that  all  Newport  is  just  an  imitation." 

"  Of  course  it  is.  We  are  all  imitations,  except 
Count  Crispo.  I'll  bet  a  cup  of  tea  against  a  pair 
of  gloves,"  said  Carmen,  who  had  facility  in  pick 
ing  up  information,  "that  Mr.  Ponsonby  wasn't 
born  in  England." 

Mr.  Ponsonby  looked  redder  than  usual,  and  then 
laughed,  and  said,  "Well,  I  was  only  three  years 
old  when  I  left  Halifax." 

"  I  knew  it !"  cried  Carmen,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  Now  come  in  and  have  a  cup  of  English  breakfast 
tea.  That's  imitation  too." 

"  The  mistake  you  made,"  said  Margaret,  "  was 
not  being  born  in  Spain." 

"Perhaps  it's  not  irreparable,"  the  count  inter 
posed,  with  an  air  of  gallantry. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Carmen,  audaciously  ;  "  by  this 
time  I  should  be  buried  in  Seville.  No,  I  should 
prefer  Halifax,  for  it  would  have  been  a  pleasure  to 
emigrate  from  Halifax.  Was  it  not,  Mr.  Ponsonby  ?" 

"  I  can't  remember.  But  it  is  a  pleasure  to  so 
journ  in  any  land  with  Miss  Eschelle." 


284  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  Thank  you.  Now  you  shall  have  two  cups. 
Come." 

The  next  morning,  Mr.  Jerry  Hollowell,  having 
inquired  where  Margaret  was  staying,  called  to  pay 
his  respects,  as  he  phrased  it.  Carmen,  who  was 
with  Margaret  in  the  morning-room,  received  him 
with  her  most  distinguished  manner.  "  We  all  know 
Mr.  Hollowell,"  she  said. 

"  That's  not  always  an  advantage,"  retorted  Un 
cle  Jerry,  seating  himself,  and  depositing  his  hat 
beside  his  chair.  "  When  do  you  expect  your  hus 
band,  Mrs.  Henderson  ?" 

"  To-morrow.  But  I  don't  mean  to  tell  him  that 
you  are  here — not  at  first." 

"  No,"  said  Carmen ;  "  we  women  want  Mr.  Hen 
derson  a  little  while  to  ourselves." 

"Why,  I'm  the  idlest  man  in  America.  I  tell 
Henderson  that  he  ought  to  take  more  time  for 
rest.  It's  no  good  to  drive  things.  I  like  quiet." 

"And  you  get  it  in  Newport?"  Margaret  asked. 

"Well,  my  wife  and  children  get  what  they  call 
quiet.  I  guess  a  month  of  it  would  use  me  up. 
She  says  if  I  had  a  place  here  I'd  like  it.  Perhaps 
so.  You  are  very  comfortably  fixed,  Miss  Eschelle." 

"  It  does  very  well  for  us,  but  something  more 
would  be  expected  of  Mr.  Hollowell.  We  are  just 
camping-out  here.  What  Newport  needs  is  a  real 
palace,  just  to  show  those  foreigners  who  come 
here  and  patronize  us.  Why  is  it,  Mr.  Hollowell, 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  285 

that  all  you  millionaires  can't  think  of  anything 
better  to  do  with  your  money  than  to  put  up 
a  big  hotel  or  a  great  elevator  of  a  business 
block?" 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Uncle  Jerry,  blandly,  "  that  is 
because  they  are  interested  in  the  prosperity  of  the 
country,  and  have  simple  democratic  tastes  for 
themselves.  I'm  afraid  you  are  not  democratic, 
Miss  Eschelle." 

"  Oh,  I'm  anxious  about  the  public  also.  I'm  on 
your  side,  Mr.  Hollowell ;  but  you  don't  go  far 
enough.  You  just  throw  in  a  college  now  and  then 
to  keep  us  quiet,  but  you  owe  it  to  the  country  to 
show  the  English  that  a  democrat  can  have  as  fine 
a  house  as  anybody." 

"I  call  that  real  patriotism.  When  I  get  rich, 
Miss  Eschelle,  I'll  bear  it  in  mind." 

"  Oh,  you  never  will  be  rich,"  said  Carmen,  sweet 
ly,  bound  to  pursue  her  whim.  "  You  might  come 
to  me  for  a  start  to  begin  the  house.  I  was  very 
lucky  last  spring  in  A.  and  B.  bonds." 

"  How  was  that  ?  Are  you  interested  in  A.  and 
B.  ?"  asked  Uncle  Jerry,  turning  around  with  a  live 
ly  interest  in  this  gentle  little  woman. 

"  Oh  no ;  we  sold  out.  We  sold  when  we  heard 
what  an  interest  there  was  in  the  road.  Mamma 
said  it  would  never  do  for  two  capitalists  to  have 
their  eggs  in  the  same  basket." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Carmen  ?"  asked  Margaret, 


286  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

startled.  "  Why,  that  is  the  road  Mr.  Henderson 
is  in." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  dear.    There  were  too  many  in  it." 

"  Isn't  it  safe  ?"  said  Margaret,  turning  to  Hollo- 
well. 

"  A  great  deal  more  solid  than  it  was,"  he  replied. 
"  It  is  part  of  a  through  line.  I  suppose  Miss  Es- 
chelle  found  a  better  investment." 

"  One  nearer  home,"  she  admitted,  in  the  most 
matter-of-fact  way. 

"Henderson  must  have  given  the  girl  points," 
thought  Hollowell.  He  began  to  feel  at  home  with 
ther.  If  he  had  said  the  truth,  it  would  have  been 
that  she  was  more  his  kind  than  Mrs.  Henderson, 
but  that  he  respected  the  latter  more.  "  I  think  we 
might  go  in  partnership,  Miss  Eschelle,  to  mutual 
advantage — but  not  in  building.  Your  ideas  are 
too  large  for  me  there." 

"  I  should  be  a  very  unreliable  partner,  Mr.  Hol 
lowell;  but  I  could  enlarge  your  ideas,  if  I  had 
time." 

Hollowell  laughed,  and  said  he  hadn't  a  doubt  of 
that.  Margaret  inquired  for  Mrs.  Hollowell  and 
the  children,  and  she  and  Carmen  appointed  an 
hour  for  calling  at  the  Ocean  House.  The  talk 
Avent  to  other  topics,  and  after  a  half -hour  ended 
in  mutual  good-feeling. 

"What  a  delightful  old  party!"  said  Carmen, 
after  he  had  gone.  "  I've  a  mind  to  adopt  him." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  287 

In  a  week  Hollowell  and  Carmen  were  the  best 
of  friends.  She  called  him  "  Uncle  Jerry,"  and 
buzzed  about  him,  to  his  great  delight.  "  The 
beauty  of  it  is,"  he  said,  "  you  never  can  tell  where 
she  will  light." 

Everybody  knows  what  Newport  is  in  August, 
and  we  need  not  dwell  on  it.  To  Margaret,  with 
its  languidly  moving  pleasures,  its  well-bred  scenery, 
the  luxury  that  lulled  the  senses  into  oblivion  of 
the  vulgar  struggle  and  anxiety  which  ordinarily 
attend  life,  it  was  little  less  than  paradise.  To  float 
along  with  Carmen,  going  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  shifting  gayety  which  made  the  days  fly  with 
out  thought  and  with  no  care  for  to-morrow,  began 
to  seem  an  admirable  way  of  passing  life.  What 
could  one  do  fitter,  after  all,  for  a  world  hopelessly 
full  of  suffering  and  poverty  and  discontent,  than 
to  set  an  example  of  cheerfulness  and  enjoyment, 
and  to  contribute,  as  occasion  offered,  to  the  less 
fortunate  ?  Would  it  help  matters  to  be  personally 
anxious  and  miserable  ?  To  put  a  large  bill  in  the 
plate  on  Sunday,  to  open  her  purse  wide  for  the  ob 
jects  of  charity  and  relief  daily  presented,  was  in 
deed  a  privilege  and  a  pleasure,  and  a  satisfaction 
to  the  conscience  which  occasionally  tripped  her  in 
her  rapid  pace. 

"  I  don't  believe  you  have  a  bit  of  conscience," 
said  Margaret  to  Carmen  one  Sunday,  as  they 
walked  home  from  morning  service,  when  Mar- 


288  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

garet  had  responded  "  extravagantly/'  as  Carmen 
said,  to  an  appeal  for  the  mission  among  the  city 
pagans. 

"  I  never  said  I  had,  dear.  It  must  be  the  most 
troublesome  thing  you  can  carry  around  with  you. 
Of  course  I  am  interested  in  the  heathen,  but  char 
ity — that  is  where  I  agree  with  Uncle  Jerry — be 
gins  at  home,  and  I  don't  happen  to  know  a  great 
er  heathen  than  I  am." 

"  If  you  were  as  bad  as  you  make  yourself  out,  I 
wouldn't  walk  with  you  another  step." 

"  Well,  you  ask  mother.  She  was  in  such  a  rage 
one  day  when  I  told  Mr.  Lyon  that  he'd  better  look 
after  Ireland  than  go  pottering  round  among  the 
neglected  children.  Not  that  I  care  anything  about 
the  Irish,"  added  this  candid  person. 

"  I  suppose  you  wanted  to  make  it  pleasant  for 
Mr.  Lyon?" 

"  No ;  for  mother.  She  can't  get  over  the  idea 
that  she  is  still  bringing  me  up.  And  Mr.  Lyon ! 
Goodness !  there  was  no  living  with  him  after  his 
visit  to  Brandon.  Do  you  know,  Margaret,  that  I 
think  you  are  just  a  little  bit  sly  ?" 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Margaret, 
looking  offended. 

"Dear,  I  don't  blame  you,"  said  the  impulsive 
creature,  wheeling  short  round  and  coming  close 
to  Margaret.  "  I'd  kiss  you  this  minute  if  we  were 
not  in  the  public  road." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  289 

When  Henderson  came,  Margaret's  world  was 
full ;  no  desire  was  ungratified.  He  experienced  a 
little  relief  when  she  did  not  bother  him  about  his 
business  nor  inquire  into  his  operations  with  Hollo^ 
well,  and  he  fancied  that  she  was  getting  to  accept 
the  world  as  Carmen  accepted  it.  There  had  been 
moments  since  his  marriage  when  he  feared  that 
Margaret's  scruples  would  interfere  with  his  career, 
but  never  a  moment  when  he  had  doubted  that  her 
love  for  him  would  be  superior  to  any  solicitations 
from  others.  Carmen,  who  knew  him  like  a  book, 
would  have  said  that  the  model  wife  for  Henderson 
would  be  a  woman  devoted  to  him  and  to  his  in 
terests,  and  not  too  scrupulous.  A  wife  is  a  tor 
ment,  if  you  can't  feel  at  ease  with  her. 

"  If  there  were  only  a  French  fleet  in  the  harbor, 
dear,"  said  Margaret  one  day,  "  I  should  feel  that  I 
had  quite  taken  up  the  life  of  my  great-great-grand 
mother." 

They  were  sailing  in  IlolloweH's  yacht,  in  which 
Uncle  Jerry  had  brought  his  family  round  from 
New  York.  He  hated  the  water,  but  Mrs.  Hollo- 
well  and  the  children  doted  on  the  sea,  he  said. 

"  Wouldn't  the  torpedo  station  make  up  for  it  ?" 
Henderson  asked. 

"  Hardly.    But  it  shows  the  change  of  a  hundred 
years.     Only,  isn't  it  odd,  this  personal  dropping 
back  into  an  old  situation  ?    I  wonder  what  she  was 
like  ?" 
19 


290  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  The  accounts  say  she  was  the  belle  of  Newport. 
I  suppose  Newport  has  a  belle  once  in  a  hundred 
years.  The  time  has  come  round.  But  I  confess 
I  don't  miss  the  French  fleet,"  replied  Henderson, 
with  a  look  of  love  that  thrilled  Margaret  through 
and  through. 

"But  you  would  have  been  an  officer  on  the 
fleet,  and  I  should  have  fallen  in  love  with  you. 
Ah,  well,  it  is  better  as  it  is." 

And  it  was  better.  The  days  went  by  without  a 
cloud.  Even  after  Henderson  had  gone  the  pros 
perity  of  life  filled  her  heart  more  and  more. 

"  She  might  have  been  like  me,"  Carmen  said  to 
herself,  "  if  she  had  only  started  right ;  but  it  is  so 
hard  to  get  rid  of  a  New  England  conscience." 

When  Margaret  stayed  in  her  room,  one  morn 
ing,  to  write  a  long-postponed  letter  to  her  aunt, 
she  discovered  that  she  had  very  little  to  write,  at 
least  that  she  wanted  to  write,  to  her  aunt.  She 
began,  however,  resolutely  with  a  little  account  of 
her  life.  But  it  seemed  another  thing  on  paper, 
addressed  to  the  loving  eyes  at  Brandon.  There 
were  too  much  luxury  and  idleness  and  triviality 
in  it,  too  much  Carmen  and  Count  Crispo  and  flir 
tation  and  dissipation  in  it. 

She  tore  it  up,  and  went  to  the  window  and 
looked  out  upon  the  sea.  She  was  indignant  with 
the  Brandon  people  that  they  should  care  so  little 
about  this  charming  life.  She  was  indignant  at 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  291 

herself  that  she  had  torn  up  the  letter.  What  had 
she  done  that  anybody  should  criticise  her  ?  Why 
shouldn't  she  live  her  life,  and  not  be  hampered 
everlastingly  by  comparisons  ? 

She  sat  down  again,  and  took  up  her  pen.  Was 
she  changing — was  she  changed?  Why  was  it 
that  she  had  felt  a  little  relief  when  her  last  Bran 
don  visit  was  at  an  end,  a  certain  freedom  in  Lenox 
and  a  greater  freedom  in  Newport  ?  The  old  as 
sociations  became  strong  again  in  her  mind,  the 
life  in  the  little  neighborhood,  the  simplicity  of  it, 
the  high  ideals  of  it,  the  daily  love  and  tenderness. 
Her  aunt  was  no  doubt  wondering  now  that  she 
did  not  Avrite,  and  perhaps  grieving  that  Marga 
ret  no  more  felt  at  home  in  Brandon.  It  was  too 
much.  She  loved  them,  she  loved  them  all  dearly. 
She  would  write  that,  and  speak  only  generally  of 
her  frivolous,  happy  summer.  And  she  began,  but 
somehow  the  letter  seemed  stiff  and  to  lack  the 
old  confiding  tone. 

But  why  should  they  disapprove  of  her  ?  She 
thought  of  her  husband.  If  circumstances  had  al 
tered,  w^as  she  to  blame?  Could  she  always  be 
thinking  of  what  they  would  think  at  Brandon? 
It  was  an  intolerable  bondage.  They  had  no  right 
to  set  themselves  up  over  her.  Suppose  her 
aunt  didn't  like  Carmen.  She  was  not  responsi 
ble  for  Carmen.  What  would  they  have  her  do  ? 
Be  unhappy  because  Henderson  was  prosperous, 


292  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

and  she  could  indulge  her  tastes  and  not  have  to 
drudge  in  school  ?  Suppose  she  did  look  at  some 
things  differently  from  what  she  used  to.  She 
knew  more  of  the  world.  Must  you  shut  yourself 
up  because  you  found  you  couldn't  trust  every 
body  ?  What  was  Mr.  Morgan  always  hitting  at  ? 
Had  he  any  better  opinion  of  men  and  women 
than  her  husband  had  ?  Was  he  any  more  charita 
ble  than  Uncle  Jerry  ?  She  smiled  as  she  thought 
of  Uncle  Jerry  and  his  remark — "  It's  a  very  de 
cent  world  if  you  don't  huff  it."  No ;  she  did  like 
this  life,  and  she  was  not  going  to  pretend  that 
she  didn't.  It  would  be  dreadful  to  lose  the  love 
and  esteem  of  her  dear  old  friends,  and  she  cried  a 
little  as  this  possibility  came  over  her.  And  then 
she  hardened  her  heart  a  little  at  the  thought  that 
she  could  not  help  it  if  they  chose  to  misunder 
stand  her  and  change. 

Carmen  was  calling  from  the  stairs  that  it  was 
time  to  dress  for  the  drive.  She  dashed  off  a  note. 
It  contained  messages  of  love  for  everybody,  but 
it  was  the  first  one  in  her  life  written  to  her  aunt 
not  from  her  heart. 


XVII. 

SHALL  we  never  have  done  with  this  carping  at 
people  who  succeed  ?  Are  those  who  start  and  don't 
arrive  any  better  than  those  who  do  arrive  ?  Did 
not  men  always  make  all  the  money  they  had  an 
opportunity  to  make  ?  Must  we  always  have  the 
old  slow-coach  merchants  and  planters  thrown  up 
to  us  ?  Talk  of  George  Washington  and  the  men 
of  his  day !  Were  things  any  better  because  they 
were  on  a  small  scale  ?  Wasn't  the  thrifty  George 
Washington  always  adding  to  his  plantations,  and 
squeezing  all  he  could  out  of  his  land  and  his 
slaves?  What  are  the  negro  traditions  about  it? 
Were  they  all  patriots  in  the  Revolutionary  War  ? 
Were  there  no  contractors  who  amassed  fortunes 
then  ?  And  how  was  it  in  the  late  war  ?  The  pub 
lic  has  a  great  spasm  of  virtue  all  of  a  sudden. 
But  we  have  got  past  the  day  of  stage-coaches. 

Something  like  this  Henderson  was  flinging  out 
to  Carmen  as  he  paced  back  and  forth  in  her  par 
lor.  It  was  very  unlike  him,  this  outburst,  and 
Carmen  knew  that  he  would  indulge  in  it  to  no 
one  else,  not  even  to  Uncle  Jerry.  She  was  coiled 
up  in  a  corner  of  the  sofa,  her  eyes  sparkling  with 


294  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

admiration  of  his  indignation  and  force.  I  confess 
that  he  had  been  irritated  by  the  comments  of  the 
newspapers,  and  by  the  prodding  of.  the  lawyers  in 
the  suit  then  on  trial  over  the  South-Avestern  con 
solidation. 

"  Why,  there  was  old  Mansfield  saying  in  his  ar 
gument  that  he  had  had  some  little  experience  in 
life,  but  he  never  had  known  a  man  to  get  rich 
rapidly,  barring  some  piece  of  luck,  except  by 
means  that  it  would  make  him  writhe  to  have 
made  public.  I  don't  know  but  that  Uncle  Jerry 
was  right,  that  we  made  a  mistake  in  not  retaining 
him  for  the  corporation." 

"  Not  if  you  win,"  said  Carmen,  softly.  "  The 
public  won't  care  for  the  remark  unless  you  fail." 

"  And  he  tried  to  prejudice  the  Court  by  quoting 
the  remark  attributed  to  Uncle  Jerry, '  The  public 

be  d d !'  as  if,  said  Mansfield,  the  public  has 

no  rights  as  against  the  railroad  wreckers.  Uncle 
Jerry  laughed,  and  interrupted  :  '  That's  nonsense, 
reporters'  nonsense.  What  I  said  was  that  if  the 
public  thought  I  was  fool  enough  to  make  it  our 

enemy,  the  public  might  be  d d  (begging  your 

honor's  pardon).'  Then  everybody  laughed.  '  It's 
the  bondholders,  who  want  big  dividends,  that 
stand  in  the  way  of  the  development  of  the  coun 
try,  that's  what  it  is,'  said  he,  as  he  sat  down,  to 
those  around  him,  but  loud  enough  to  be  heard  all 
over  the  room.  Mansfield  asked  the  protection  of 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  295 

the  Court  against  these  clap -trap  interruptions. 
The  judge  said  it  was  altogether  irregular,  and 
Uncle  Jerry  begged  pardon.  The  reporters  made 
this  incident  the  one  prominent  thing  in  the  case 
that  day." 

"What  a  delightful  Uncle  Jerry  it  is !"  said  Car 
men.  "  You'd  better  keep  an  eye  on  him,  Rodney ; 
he'll  be  giving  your  money  to  that  theological  sem 
inary  in  Alabama." 

"  That  reminds  me,"  Henderson  said,  cooling 
down,  aof  a  paragraph  in  The  Planet,  the  other 
day,  about  the  amount  of  my  gifts  unknown  to 
the  public.  I  showed  it  to  Uncle  Jerry,  and  he 
said,  '  Yes,  I  mentioned  it  to  the  editor ;  sucli 
things  don't  do  any  harm.'  r 

"  I  saw  it,  and  wondered  who  started  it,"  Carmen 
replied,  wrinkling  her  brows  as  if  she  had  been  a 
good  deal  perplexed  about  it. 

"  I  thought,"  said  Henderson,  with  a  smile,  "that 
it  ought  to  be  explained  to  you." 

"No,"  she  said,  reflectively;  "you  are  liberal 
enough,  goodness  knows — too  liberal — but  you  are 
not  a  flat." 

Henderson  Avas  in  the  habit  of  dropping  in  at  the 
Eschelles'  occasionally,  when  he  wanted  to  talk  free 
ly.  He  had  no  need  to  wear  a  mask  with  Carmen. 
Her  moral  sense  was  tolerant  and  elastic,  and  fem 
inine  sympathy  of  this  sort  is  a  grateful  cushion. 
She  admired  Henderson,  without  thinking  any  too 


296  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

well  of  the  world  in  general,  and  she  admired  him 
for  the  qualities  that  were  most  conformable  to  his 
inclination.  It  was  no  case  of  hero-worship,  to  be 
sure,  nor  for  tragedy  ;  but  then  what  a  satisfaction 
it  must  be  to  sweet  Lady  Macbeth,  coiled  up  on  her 
sofa,  to  feel  that  the  thane  of  Cawdor  has  some 
nerve ! 

The  Hendersons  had  come  back  to  Washington 
Square  late  in  the  autumn.  It  is  a  merciful  pro 
vision  that  one  has  an  orderly  and  well-appointed 
home  to  return  to  from  the  fatigues  of  the  country. 
Margaret,  at  any  rate,  was  a  little  tired  with  the 
multiform  excitements  of  her  summer,  and  experi 
enced  a  feeling  of  relief  when  she  crossed  her  OAvn 
threshold  and  entered  into  the  freedom  and  quiet 
of  her  home.  She  was  able  to  shut  the  door  there 
even  against  the  solicitations  of  nature  and  against 
the  weariness  of  it  also.  How  quiet  it  was  in  the 
square  in  those  late  autumn  days,  and  yet  not  life 
less  by  any  means !  Indeed,  it  seemed  all  the  more 
a  haven  because  the  roar  of  the  great  city  environ 
ed  it,  and  one  could  feel,  without  being  disturbed  by, 
the  active  pulsation  of  human  life.  And  then,  if 
one  has  sentiment,  is  there  anywhere  that  it  is  more 
ministered  to  than  in  the  city  at  the  close  of  the 
year?  The  trees  in  the  little  park  grow  red  and 
yellow  and  brown,  the  leaves  fall  and  swirl  and 
drift  in  windrows  by  the  paths,  the  flower-beds 
flame  forth  in  the  last  dying  splendor  of  their 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  297 

color;  the  children,  chasing  each  other  with  hoop 
and  ball  about  the  walks,  are  more  subdued  than 
in  the  spring-time ;  the  old  men,  seeking  now  the 
benches  where  the  sunshine  falls,  sit  in  dreamy  rem 
iniscence  of  the  days  that  are  gone  ;  the  wandering 
minstrel  of  Italy  turns  the  crank  of  his  wailing  ma 
chine,  0  !  Mia,  betta,  as  in  the  spring,  but  the  notes 
seem  to  come  from  far  off  and  to  be  full  of  memory 
rather  than  of  promise ;  and  at  early  morning,  or 
when  the  shadows  lengthen  at  evening,  the  south 
wind  that  stirs  the  trees  has  a  salt  smell,  and  sends  a 
premonitory  shiver  of  change  to  the  fading  foliage. 
But  how  bright  are  the  squares  and  the  streets,  for 
all  this  note  of  melancholy  !  Life  is  to  begin  again. 
But  the  social  season  opened  languidly.  It  takes 
some  time  to  recover  from  the  invigoration  of  the 
summer  gayety — to  pick  up  again  the  threads  and 
weave  them  into  that  brilliant  pattern,  which  scarce 
ly  shows  all  its  loveliness  of  combination  and  color 
before  the  weavers  begin  to  work  in  the  subdued 
tints  of  Lent.  How  delightful  it  is  to  see  this  knit 
ting  and  unravelling  of  the  social  fabric  year  af 
ter  year !  and  how  untiring  are  the  senders  of  the 
shuttles,  the  dyers,  the  hatchellers,  the  spinners, 
the  ever-busy  makers  and  destroyers  of  the  intri 
cate  web  we  call  society!  After  one  campaign, 
must  there  not  be  time  given  to  organize  for  an 
other?  "Who  has  fallen  out,  who  are  the  new  re 
cruits,  who  are  engaged,  who  will  marry,  who  have 


298  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

separated,  who  has  lost  his  money  ?  Before  we  can 
safely  reorganize  we  must  not  only  examine  the 
hearts  but  the  stock -list.  No  matter  how  many 
brilliant  alliances  have  been  arranged,  no  matter 
how  many  husbands  and  wives  have  drifted  apart 
in  the  local  whirlpools  of  the  summer's  current,  the 
season  will  be  dull  if  Wall  Street  is  torpid  and  dis 
couraged.  We  cannot  any  of  us,  you  see,  live  to  our 
selves  alone.  Does  not  the  preacher  say  that  ?  And 
do  we  not  all  look  about  us  in  the  pews,  when  he  thus 
moralizes,  to  see  who  has  prospered  ?  The  B's  have 
taken  a  back  seat,  the  C's  have  moved  up  nearer  the 
pulpit.  There  is  a  reason  for  these  things,  my  friends. 
I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Margaret  was  usually 
obliged  to  go  alone  to  the  little  church  where  she 
said  her  prayers ;  for  however  restful  her  life  might 
have  been  while  that  season  was  getting  under  way, 
Henderson  was  involved  in  the  most  serious  strug 
gle  of  his  life — a  shameful  kind  of  conspiracy,  Mar 
garet  told  Carmen,  against  him.  I  have  hinted  at 
his  annoyance  in  the  courts.  Ever  since  September 
he  had  been  pestered  with  injunctions,  threatened 
with  attachments.  And  now  December  had  come 
and  Congress  was  in  session ;  in  the  very  firs£  days 
an  investigation  had  been  ordered  into  the  land 
grants  involved  in  the  South-western  operations. 
Uncle  Jerry  was  in  Washington  to  explain  matters 
there,  and  Henderson,  with  the  ablest  counsel  in 
the  city,  was  fighting  in  the  courts.  The  affair 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  299 

made  a  tremendous  stir.  Some  of  the  bondholders 
of  the  A.  and  B.  happened  to  be  men  of  prominence, 
and  able  to  make  a  noise  about  their  injury.  As 
several  millions  were  involved  in  this  one  branch  of 
the  case — the  suit  of  the  bondholders — the  newspa 
pers  treated  it  with  the  consideration  and  dignity 
it  deserved.  It  was  a  vast  financial  operation,  some 
said,  scathingly,  a  "  deal,"  but  the  magnitude  of  it 
prevented  it  from  falling  into  the  reports  of  petty 
swindling  that  appear  in  the  police-court  column. 
It  was  a  public  affair,  and  not  to  be  judged  by  one's 
private  standard.  I  know  that  there  were  remarks 
made  about  Henderson  that  would  have  pained 
Margaret  if  she  had  heard  them,  but  I  never  heard 
that  he  lost  standing  in  the  street.  Still,  in  justice 
to  the  street  it  must  be  said  that  it  charitably  waits 
for  things  to  be  proven,  and  that  if  Henderson  had 
failed,  he  might  have  had  little  more  lenient  judg 
ment  in  the  street  than  elsewhere. 

In  fact,  those  were  very  trying  days  for  him — 
days  when  he  needed  all  the  private  sympathy 
he  could  get,  and  to  be  shielded,  in  his  great  fight 
writh  the  conspiracy,  from  petty  private  annoyances. 
It  needed  all  his  courage  and  good -temper  and 
bonhomie  to  carry  him  through.  That  he  went 
through  was  evidence  not  only  of  his  adroitness 
and  ability,  but  it  wras  proof  also  that  he  was  a 
good -fellow.  If  there  were  people  who  thought 
otherwise,  I  never  heard  that  they  turned  their 


300  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

backs  on  him,  or  failed  in  that  civility  which  he 
never  laid  aside  in  his  intercourse  with  others. 

If  a  man  present  a  smiling  front  to  the  world 
under  extreme  trial,  is  not  that  all  that  can  be  ex 
pected  of  him?  Shall  he  not  be  excused  for  show 
ing  a  little  irritation  at  home  when  things  go  badly  ? 
Henderson  was  as  good-humored  a  man  as  I  ever 
knew,  and  he  loved  Margaret,  he  was  proud  of  her, 
he  trusted  her.  Since  when  did  the  truest  love  pre 
vent  a  man  from  being  petulant,  even  to  the  extent 
of  wounding  those  he  best  loves,  especially  if  the 
loved  one  shows  scruples  when  sympathy  is  need 
ed  ?  The  reader  knows  that  the  present  writer  has 
no  great  confidence  in  t£ie  principle  of  Carmen; 
but  if  she  had  been  married,  and  her  husband  had 
wrecked  an  insurance  company  and  appropriated 
all  the  surplus  belonging  to  the  policy-holders,  I 
don't  believe  she  would  have  nagged  him  about  it. 

And  yet  Margaret  loved  Henderson  with  her 
whole  soul.  And  in  this  stage  of  her  progress  in 
the  world  she  showed  that  she  did,  though  not  in 
the  way  Carmen  would  have  showed  her  love,  if 
she  had  loved,  and  if  she  had  a  soul  capable  of  love. 

It  may  have  been  inferred  from  Henderson's  ex 
hibition  of  temper  that  his  case  had  gone  against 
him.  It  is  true ;  an  injunction  had  been  granted  in 
the  lower  court,  and  public  opinion  went  with  the 
decree,  and  was  in  a  great  measure  satisfied  by  it. 
But  this  fight  had  really  only  just  begun  ;  it  would 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  'World.  301 

go  on  in  the  higher  courts,  with  new  resources  and 
infinite  devices,  which  the  public  would  be  unable 
to  fathom  or  follow,  until  by-and-by  it  would  come 
out  that  a  compromise  had  been  made,  and  the 
easy  public  would  not  understand  that  this  com 
promise  gave  the  looters  of  the  railway  substan 
tially  all  they  ever  expected  to  get. 

The  morning  after  the  granting  of  the  injunction 
Henderson  had  been  silent  and  very  much  absorbed 
at  breakfast,  hardly  polite,  Margaret  thought,  and 
so  inattentive  to  her  remarks  that  she  asked  him 
twice  whether  they  should  accept  the  Brandon  in 
vitation  to  Christmas. 

"  Christmas !  I  don't  know.  I've  got  other 
things  to  think  of  than  Christmas,"  he  said,  scarce 
ly  looking  at  her,  and  rising  abruptly  and  going 
away  to  his  library. 

When  the  postman  brought  Margaret's  mail 
there  was  a  letter  in  it  from  her  aunt,  which  she 
opened  leisurely  after  the  other  notes  had  been 
glanced  through,  on  the  principle  that  a  family 
letter  can  wait,  or  from  the  fancy  that  some  have 
of  keeping  the  letter  likely  to  be  most  interest 
ing  till  the  last.  But  almost  the  first  line  enchain 
ed  her  attention,  and  as  she  read,  her  heart  beat 
faster,  and  her  face  became  scarlet.  It  was  very 
short,  and  I  am  able  to  print  it,  because  all  Mar 
garet's  correspondence  ultimately  came  into  pos 
session  of  her  aunt : 


302  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  BRANDON,  December  \*lth. 

"  DEAREST  MARGARET, — You  do  not  say  whether 
you  will '  come  for  Christmas,  but  we  infer  from 
your  silence  that  you  will.  You  know  how  pained 
we  shall  all  be  if  you  do  not.  Yet  I  fear  the  day 
will  not  be  as  pleasant  as  we  could  wish.  In  fact, 
we  are  in  a  good  deal  of  trouble.  You  know,  dear, 
that  poor  Mrs.  Fletcher  had  nearly  every  dollar  of 
her  little  fortune  invested  in  the  A.  and  B.  bonds, 
and  for  ten  months  she  has  not  had  a  cent  of  in 
come,  and  no  prospect  of  any.  Indeed,  Morgan 
says  that  she  will  be  lucky  if  she  ultimately  saves 
half  her  principal.  We  try  to  cheer  her  up,  but  she 
is  so  cast  down  and  mortified  to  have  to  live,  as  she 
says,  on  charity.  And  it  does  make  rather  close 
house-keeping,  though  I'm  sure  I  couldn't  live  alone 
without  her.  It  does  not  make  so  much  difference 
with  Mr.  Fairchild  and  Mr.  Morgan,  for  they  have 
plenty  of  other  resources.  Mr.  Fairchild  tells  her 
that  she  is  in  very  good  company,  for  lots  of  the 
bonds  are  held  in  Brandon,  and  she  is  not  the  only 
widow  who  suffers ;  but  this  is  poor  consolation. 
We  had  great  hopes,  the  other  day,  of  the  trial,  but 
Morgan  says  it  may  be  years  before  any  final  set 
tlement.  I  don't  believe  Mr.  Henderson  knows.  But 
there,  dearest,  I  won't  find  fault.  We  are  all  well, 
and  eager  to  see  you.  Do  come. 

"  Your  affectionate  aunt, 

"  GEORGIANA." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  303 

Margaret's  hand  that  held  the  letter  trembled, 
and  the  eyes  that  read  these  words  were  hot  with 
indignation ;  but  she  controlled  herself  into  an  ap 
pearance  of  calmness  as  she  marched  away  with  it 
straight  to  the  library. 

As  she  entered,  Henderson  was  seated  at  his  desk, 
with  bowed  head  and  perplexed  brows,  sorting  a  pile 
of  papers  before  him,  and  making  notes.  He  did  not 
look  up  until  she  came  close  to  him  and  stood  at  the 
end  of  his  desk.  Then,  turning  his  eyes  for  a  mo 
ment,  and  putting  out  his  left  hand  to  her,  he  said, 
"Well,  what  is  it,  dear?" 

"  Will  you  read  that  ?"  said  Margaret,  in  a  voice 
that  sounded  strange  in  her  own  ears. 

"What?" 

"  A  letter  from  Aunt  Forsythe." 

"  Family  matter.  Can't  it  wait  ?"  said  Hender 
son,  going  on  with  his  figuring. 

"If  it  can,  I  cannot,"  Margaret  answered,  in  a 
tone  that  caused  him  to  turn  abruptly  and  look  at 
her.  He  was  so  impatient  and  occupied  that  even 
yet  he  did  not  comprehend  the  new  expression  in 
her  face. 

"  Don't  you  see  I  am  busy,  child  ?  I  have  an  en 
gagement  in  twenty  minutes  in  my  office." 

"  You  can  read  it  in  a  moment,"  said  Margaret, 
still  calm. 

Henderson  took  the  letter  with  a  gesture  of  ex 
treme  annoyance,  ran  his  eye  through  it,  flung  it 


304:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

from,  him  on  the  table,  and  turned  squarely  round 
in  his  chair. 

" Well,  what  of  it?" 

"  To  ruin  poor  Mrs.  Fletcher  and  a  hundred  like 
her !"  cried  Margaret,  with  rising  indignation. 

"  What  have  I  to  do  with  it  ?  Did  I  make  their 
investments  ?  Do  you  think  I  have  time  to  attend 
to  every  poor  duck  ?  Why  don't  people  look  where 
they  put  their  money  ?" 

"  It's  a  shame,  a  burning  shame !"  she  cried,  re 
garding  him  steadily. 

"Oh  yes;  no  doubt.  I  lost  a  hundred  thousand 
yesterday;  did  I  whine  about  it  ?  If  I  want  to  buy 
anything  in  the  market,  have  I  got  to  look  into 
every  tuppenny  interest  concerned  in  it  ?  If  Mrs. 
Fletcher  or  anybody  else  has  any  complaint  against 
me,  the  courts  are  open.  I  defy  the  whole  pack !" 
Henderson  thundered  out,  rising  and  buttoning  his 
coat — "  the  whole  pack !" 

"And  you  have  nothing  else  to  say,  Rodney?" 
Margaret  persisted,  not  quailing  in  the  least  before 
his  indignation.  He  had  never  seen  her  so  before, 
and  he  was  now  too  much  in  a  passion  to  fully 
heed  her. 

"  Oh,  women,  women !"  he  said,  taking  up  his 
hat,  "  you  have  sympathy  enough  for  anybody  but 
your  husbands."  He  pushed  past  her,  and  was  gone 
without  another  word  or  look. 

Margaret  turned  to  follow  him.    She  would  have 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  305 

cried  "  Stop !"  but  the  word  stuck  in  her  throat. 
She  Avas  half  beside  herself  with  rage  for  a  mo 
ment.  But  he  had  gone.  She  heard  the  outer 
door  close.  Shame  and  grief  overcame  her.  She 
sat  down  in  the  chair  he  had  just  occupied.  It 
was  infamous  the  way  Mrs.  Fletcher  was  treated. 
And  her  husband — her  husband  was  so  regardless 
of  it.  If  he  was  not  to  blame  for  it,  why  didn't 
he  tell  her — why  didn't  he  explain  ?  And  he  had 
gone  away  without  looking  at  her.  He  had  left 
her  for  the  first  time  since  they  were  married  with 
out  kissing  her !  She  put  her  head  down  on  the 
desk  and  sobbed ;  it  seemed  as  if  her  heart  would 
break.  Perhaps  he  was  angry,  and  wouldn't  come 
back,  not  for  ever  so  long. 

How  cruel  to  say  that  she  did  not  sympathize 
with  her  husband !  How  could  he  be  angry  with 
her  for  her  natural  anxiety  about  her  old  friend  ? 
He  was  unjust.  There  must  be  something  wrong 
in  these  schemes,  these  great  operations  that  made 
so  many  confiding  people  suffer.  Was  everybody 
grasping  and  selfish  ?  She  got  up  and  walked 
about  the  dear  room,  which  recalled  to  her  only 
the  sweetest  memories ;  she  wandered  aimlessly 
about  the  lower  part  of  the  house.  She  was 
wretchedly  unhappy.  Was  her  husband  capable 
of  such  conduct  ?  Would  he  cease  to  love  her  for 
what  she  had  done — for  what  she  must  do  ?  How 
lovely  this  home  was !  Everything  spoke  of  his 
20 


306  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

care,  his  tenderness,  his  quickness  to  anticipate  her 
slightest  wish  or  whim.  It  had  been  all  created 
for  her.  She  looked  listlessly  at  the  pictures,  the 
painted  ceiling,  where  the  loves  garlanded  with 
flowers  chased  each  other ;  she  lifted  and  let  drop 
wearily  the  rich  hangings.  lie  had  said  that  it 
was  all  hers.  How  pretty  was  this  vista  through 
the  luxurious  rooms  down  to  the  green  and  sunny 
conservatory !  And  she  shrank  instinctively  from 
it  all.  Was  it  hers  ?  No ;  it  was  his.  And  was 
she  only  a  part  of  it?  Was  she  his?  How  cold 
his  look  as  he  went  away ! 

What  is  this  love,  this  divine  passion,  of  which 
we  hear  so  much  ?  Is  it,  then,  such  a  discerner  of 
right  and  wrong  \  Is  it  better  than  anything  else  ? 
Does  it  take  the  place  of  duty,  of  conscience  ?  And 
yet  what  an  unbearable  desert,  what  a  den  of  wild 
beasts  it  would  be,  this  world,  without  love,  the 
passionate,  all  -  surrendering  love  of  the  man  and 
the  woman ! 

In  the  chambers,  in  her  own  apartments,  into 
which  she  dragged  her  steps,  it  was  worse  than 
below.  Everything  here  was  personal.  Mrs.  Fair- 
child  had  said  that  it  was  too  rich,  too  luxurious ; 
but  her  husband  would  have  it  so.  Nothing  was 
too  costly,  too  good,  for  the  woman  he  loved. 
How  happy  she  had  been  in  this  boudoir,  this 
room,  her  very  own,  with  her  books,  the  souvenirs 
of  all  her  happy  life !  It  seemed  alien  now,  exter- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  307 

nal,  unsympathetic.  Here,  least  of  all  places,  could 
she  escape  from  herself,  from  her  hateful  thoughts. 
It  was  a  chilly  day,  and  a  bright  fire  crackled 
on  the  hearth.  The  square  was  almost  deserted, 
though  the  sun  illuminated  it,  and  showed  all  the 
delicate  tracery  of  the  branches  and  twigs.  It  was 
a  December  sun.  Her  easy-chair  was  drawn  to  the 
fire  and  her  book-stand  by  it,  with  the  novel  turned 
down  that  she  had  been  reading  the  night  before. 
She  sat  down  and  took  up  the  book.  She  had  lost 
her  interest  in  the  characters.  Fiction !  What 
stuff  it  was  compared  to  the  reality  of  her  own 
life !  No,  it  was  impossible.  She  must  do  some 
thing.  She  went  to  her  dressing-room  and  se 
lected  a  street  dress.  She  took  pleasure  in  putting 
on  the  plainest  costume  she  could  find,  rejecting 
every  ornament,  everything  but  the  necessary  and 
the  simple.  She  wanted  to  get  back  to  herself. 
Her  maid  appeared  in  response  to  the  bell. 

"  I  am  going  out,  Marie." 

"  "Will  madame  have  the  carriage  ?" 

"  No,  I  will  walk ;  I  need  exercise.  Tell  Jack 
son  not  to  serve  lunch."  Yes,  she  would  walk ;  for 
it  was  his  carriage,  after  all. 

It  was  after  mid-day.  In  the  keen  air  and  the 
bright  sunshine  the  streets  were  brilliant.  Marga 
ret  walked  on  up  the  avenue.  How  gay  was  the 
city,  what  a  zest  of  life  in  the  animated  scene ! 
The  throng  increased  as  she  approached  Twenty- 


308  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

third  Street.  In  the  place  where  three  or  four  cur 
rents  meet  there  was  the  usual  jam  of  carriages, 
furniture  wagons,  carts,  cars,  and  hurried,  timid, 
half -bewildered  passengers  trying  to  make  their 
way  through  it.  It  was  all  such  a  whirl  and  con 
fusion.  A  policeman  aided  Margaret  to  gain  the 
side  of  the  square.  Children  were  playing  there ; 
white-capped  maids  were  pushing  about  baby-car 
riages  ;  the  sparrows  chattered  and  fought  with  as 
much  vivacity  as  if  they  were  natives  of  the  city 
instead  of  foreigners  in  possession.  It  seemed  all 
so  empty  and  unreal.  What  was  she,  one  woman 
with  an  aching  heart,  in  the  midst  of  it  all  ?  What 
had  she  done  ?  How  could  she  have  acted  other 
wise?  Was  he  still  angry  with  her?  The  city 
was  so  vast  and  cruel.  On  the  avenue  again  there 
was  the  same  unceasing  roar  of  carts  and  car 
riages  ;  business,  pleasure,  fashion,  idleness,  the 
stream  always  went  by.  Prom  one  and  another 
carriage  Margaret  received  a  bow,  a  cool  nod,  or 
a  smile  of  greeting.  Perhaps  the  occupants  won 
dered  to  see  her  on  foot  and  alone.  What  did  it 
matter  ?  How  heartless  it  all  was !  what  an  empty 
pageant !  If  he  was  alienated,  there  was  nothing. 
And  yet  she  was  right.  For  a  moment  she  thought 
of  the  Arbusers.  She  thought  of  Carmen.  She 
must  see  somebody.  No,  she  couldn't  talk.  She 
couldn't  trust  herself.  She  must  bear  it  alone. 
And  how  weary  it  was,  walking,  walking,  with 


A  Little  Journey  In  the  World.  309 

such  a  burden !  House  after  house,  street  after 
street,  closed  doors,  repellent  fronts,  staring  at  her. 
Suppose  she  were  poor  and  hungry,  a  woman  wan 
dering  forlorn,  how  stony  and  pitiless  these  insolent 
mansions !  And  was  she  not  burdened  and  friend 
less  and  forlorn !  Tired,  she  reached  at  last,  and 
with  no  purpose,  the  great  white  cathedral.  The 
door  was  open.  In  all  this  street  of  churches  and 
palaces  there  was  no  other  door  open.  Perhaps 
here  for  a  moment  she  could  find  shelter  from  the 
world,  a  quiet  corner  where  she  could  rest  and 
think  and  pray. 

She  entered.  It  was  almost  empty,  but  down 
the  vista  of  the  great  columns  hospitable  lights 
gleamed,  and  here  and  there  a  man  or  a  woman— 
more  women  than  men — was  kneeling  in  the  great 
aisle,  before  a  picture,  at  the  side  of  a  confessional, 
at  the  steps  of  the  altar.  How  hushed  and  calm 
and  sweet  it  was !  She  crept  into  a  pew  in  a  side 
aisle  in  the  shelter  of  a  pillar,  and  sat  down.  Pres 
ently,  in  the  far  apse,  an  organ  began  to  play,  its 
notes  stealing  softly  out  through  the  great  spaces 
like  a  benediction.  She  fancied  that  the  saints,  the 
glorified  martyrs  in  the  painted  windows  illumined 
by  the  sunlight,  could  feel,  could  hear,  were  touched 
by  human  sympathy  in  their  beatitude.  There  was 
peace  here  at  any  rate,  and  perhaps  strength.  What 
a  dizzy  whirl  it  all  was  in  which  she  had  been 
borne  along !  The  tones  of  the  organ  rose  fuller 


310  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

and  fuller,  and  now  at  the  side  entrances  came 
pouring  in  children,  the  boys  on  one  side,  the  girls 
on  another — school  children  with  their  books  and 
satchels,  the  poor  children  of  the  parish,  long  lines 
of  girls  and  of  boys,  marshalled  by  priests  and  nuns, 
streaming  in  —  in  frolicsome  mood,  and  filling  all 
the  pews  of  the  nave  at  the  front.  They  had  their 
books  out,  their  singing-books ;  at  a  signal  they  all 
stood  up;  a  young  priest  with  his  baton  stepped 
into  the  centre  aisle  ;  he  waved  his  stick,  Margaret 
heard  his  sweet  tenor  voice,  and  then  the  whole 
chorus  of  children's-  voices  rising  and  filling  all  the 
house  with  the  innocent  concord,  but  always  above 
all  the  penetrating,  soaring  notes  of  the  priest — 
strong,  clear,  persuading.  Was  it  not  almost  an 
gelic  there  at  the  moment?  And  how  inspired  the 
beautiful  face  of  the  singer  leading  the  children  ! 

Ah,  me  !  it  is  not  all  of  the  world  worldly,  then. 
I  don't  know  that  the  singing  was  very  good  :  it 
was  not  classical,  I  fear ;  not  a  voice,  maybe,  that 
priest's,  not  a  chorus,  probably,  that,  for  the  Metro 
politan.  I  hear  the  organ  is  played  better  else 
where.  Song  after  song,  chorus  after  chorus,  re 
peated,  stopped,  begun  again :  it  was  only  drilling 
the  little  urchins  of  the  parochial  schools — little 
ragamuffins,  I  dare  say,  many  of  them.  What  was 
there  in  this  to  touch  a  woman  of  fashion,  sitting 
there  crying  in  her  corner  ?  Was  it  because  they 
were  children's  voices,  and  innocent?  Margaret 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  311 

did  not  care  to  check  her  tears.  She  was  thinking 
of  her  old  home,  of  her  own  childhood,  nay,  of  her 
girlhood  —  it  was  not  so  long  ago  —  of  her  ideals 
then,  of  her  notion  of  the  world  and  what  it  would 
bring  her,  of  the  dear,  affectionate  life,  the  simple 
life,  the  school,  the  little  church,  her  room  in  the 
cottage — the  chamber  where  first  the  realization 
of  love  came  to  her  with  the  odors  of  May.  Was 
it  gone,  that  life  ? — gone  or  going  out  of  her  heart  ? 
And — great  heavens! — if  her  husband  should  be 
cold  to  her !  Was  she  very  worldly  ?  Would  he 
love  her  if  she  w^ere  as  unworldly  as  she  once  was  ? 
Why  should  this  childish  singing  raise  these  con 
trasts,  and  put  her  at  odds  so  with  her  own  life? 
For  a  moment  I  doubt  not  this  dear  girl  saw  her 
self  as  we  were  beginning  to  see  her.  Who  says 
that  the  rich  and  the  prosperous  and  the  successful 
do  not  need  pity  ? 

Was  this  a  comforting  hour,  do  you  think,  for 
Margaret  in  the  cathedral?  Did  she  get  any 
strength,  I  wonder?  When  the  singing  was  over 
and  the  organ  ceased,  and  the  children  had  filed 
out,  she  stole  away  also,  w^earily  and  humbly 
enough,  and  took  the  stage  down  the  avenue.  It 
was  near  the  dinner -hour,  and  Henderson,  if  he 
came,  would  be  at  home  any  moment.  It  seemed 
as  if  she  could  not  wait — only  to  see  him ! 


XVIII. 

Do  you  suppose  that  Henderson  had  never  spoken 
impatiently  and  sharply  to  his  wife  before,  that 
Margaret  had  never  resented  it  and  replied  with 
spirit,  and  been  hurt  and  grieved,  and  that  there 
had  never  been  reconciliations?  In  writing  any 
biography  there  are  some  things  that  are  taken  for 
granted  with  an  intelligent  public.  Are  men  al 
ways  gentle  and  considerate,  and  women  always 
even-tempered  and  consistent,  simply  by  virtue  of 
a  few  words  said  to  the  priest  ? 

But  this  was  a  more  serious  affair.  Margaret 
waited  in  a  tumult  of  emotion.  She  felt  that  she 
would  die  if  she  did  not  see  him  soon,  and  she 
dreaded  his  coming.  A  horrible  suspicion  had  en 
tered  her  mind  that  respect  for  her  husband,  confi 
dence  in  him,  might  be  lowered,  and  a  more  horrible 
doubt  that  she  might  lose  his  love.  That  she  could 
not  bear. 

And  was  Henderson  unconscious  of  all  this  ?  I 
dare  say  that  in  the  perplexing  excitement  of  the 
day  he  did  recall  for  a  moment  with  a  keen  thrust 
of  regret  the  scene  of  the  morning — his  wife  stand 
ing  there  flushed,  wounded,  indignant.  "  I  might 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  313 

have  turned  back,  and  taken  her  in  my  arms,  and 
told  her  it  was  all  right,"  he  thought.  He  wished 
he  had  done  so.  But  what  nonsense  it  was  to  think 
that  she  could  be  seriously  troubled !  Besides,  he 
couldn't  have  women  interfering  with  him  every 
moment.  How  inconsiderate  men  are !  They  drop 
a  word  or  a  phrase — they  do  not  know  how  cru 
el  it  is — or  give  a  look — they  do  not  know  how 
cold  it  is — and  are  gone  without  a  second  thought 
about  it ;  but  it  sinks  into  the  woman's  heart  and 
rankles  there.  For  the  instant  it  is  like  a  mortal 
blow,  it  hurts  so,  and  in  the  brooding  spirit  it  is 
exaggerated  into  a  hopeless  disaster.  The  wound 
will  heal  with  a  kind  word,  with  kisses.  Yes,  but 
never,  never  without  a  little  scar.  But  woe  to  the 
woman's  love  when  she  becomes  insensible  to  these 
little  stabs ! 

Henderson  hurried  home,  then,  more  eagerly 
than  usual,  with  reparation  in  his  heart,  but  still 
with  no  conception  of  the  seriousness  of  the  breach. 
Margaret  heard  the  key  in  the  door,  heard  his  hasty 
step  in  the  hall,  heard  him  call,  as  he  always  did 
on  entering,  "  Margaret !  where  is  Margaret  ?"  and 
she,  sitting  there  in  the  deep  window  looking  on 
the  square,  longed  to  run  to  him,  as  usual  also,  and 
be  lifted  up  in  his  strong  arms ;  but  she  could  not 
stir.  Only  when  he  found  her  did  she  rise  up 
with  a  wistful  look  and  a  faint  smile.  "  Have  you 
had  a  good  day,  child  ?"  And  he  kissed  her.  But 


314  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

her  kiss  was  on  her  lips  only,  for  her  heart  was 
heavy. 

"  Dinner  will  be  served  as  soon  as  you  dress," 
she  said.  What  a  greeting  was  this !  Who  says 
that  a  woman  cannot  be  as  cruel  as  a  man  ? 

The  dinner  was  not  very  cheerful,  though  Mar 
garet  did  her  best  not  to  appear  constrained,  and 
Henderson  rattled  on  about  the  events  of  the  day. 
It  had  been  a  deuce  of  a  day,  but  it  was  coming 
right ;  he  felt  sure  that  the  upper  court  would  dis 
solve  the  injunction ;  the  best  counsel  said  so  ;  and 
the  criminal  proceedings — "  Had  there  been  crim 
inal  proceedings  ?"  asked  Margaret,  with  a  stricture 
at  her  heart — had  broken  down  completely,  hadn't 
a  leg  to  stand  on,  never  had,  were  only  begun 
to  bluff  the  company.  It  was  a  purely  malicious 
prosecution.  And  Henderson  did  not  think  it  nec 
essary  to  tell  Margaret  that  only  Uncle  Jerry's  dex 
terity  had  spared  both  of  them  the  experience  of  a 
night  in  the  Ludlow  Street  jail. 

"  Come,"  said  Henderson — "  come  into  the  libra 
ry.  I  have  something  to  tell  you."  He  put  his 
arm  round  her  as  they  walked,  and  seating  himself 
in  his  chair  by  his  desk  in  front  of  the  fire,  he  tried 
to  draw  Margaret  to  sit  on  his  knee. 

"No;  I'll  sit  here,  so  that  I  can  see  you,"  she 
said,  composed  and  unyielding. 

He  took  out  his  pocket-book,  selected  a  slip  of 
paper,  and  laid  it  on  the  table  before  him.  "  There, 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  315 

that  is  a  check  for  seven  hundred  dollars.  I  looked 
in  the  books.  That  is  the  interest  for  a  year  on  the 
Fletcher  bonds.  Might  as  well  make  it  an  even 
year ;  it  will  be  that  soon." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say — "  asked  Margaret,  leaning 
forward. 

"  Yes ;  to  brighten  up  the  Christinas  up  there  a 
little." 

" — that  you  are  going  to  send  that  to  Mrs. 
Fletcher  ?"  Margaret  had  risen. 

"  Oh  no ;  that  wouldn't  do.  I  cannot  send  it,  nor 
know  anything  about  it.  It  would  raise  the — well, 
it  would — if  the  other  bondholders  knew  anything 
about  it.  Bat  you  can  change  that  for  your  check, 
and  nobody  the  wiser." 

"  Oh,  Eodney !"  She  was  on  his  knee  now.  He 
was  good,  after  all.  Her  head  was  on  his  shoulder, 
and  she  was  crying  a  little.  "  I've  been  so  unhap 
py,  so  unhappy,  all  day !  And  I  can  send  that  ?" 
She  sprang  up.  "  I'll  do  it  this  minute — I'll  run 
and  get  my  check-book !"  But  before  she  reached 
the  door  she  turned  back,  and  came  and  stood  by 
him  and  kissed  him  again  and  again,  and  tumbled 
up  his  hair,  and  looked  at  him.  There  is,  after  all, 
nothing  in  the  world  like  a  woman. 

"  Time  enough  in  the  morning,"  said  Henderson, 
detaining  her.  "  I  want  to  tell  you  all  about  it." 

What  he  told  her  was,  in  fact,  the  case  as  it  had 
been  presented  by  his  lawyers,  and  it  seemed  a  very 


316  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

large,  a  constitutional,  kind  of  case.  "  Of  course," 
he  said,  uin  the  rivalry  and  competition  of  busi 
ness  somebody  must  go  to  the  wall,  and  in  a  great 
scheme  of  development  and  reorganization  of  the 
transportation  of  a  region  as  big  as  an  empire  some 
individual  interests  will  suffer.  You  can't  help 
these  changes.  I'm  sorry  for  some  of  them — very 
sorry  ;  but  nothing  would  ever  be  done  if  we  wait 
ed  to  consider  every  little  interest.  And  that  the 
men  who  create  these  great  works,  and  organize 
these  schemes  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole  public, 
shouldn't  make  anything  by  their  superior  enter 
prise  and  courage  is  all  nonsense.  The  world  is  not 
made  that  way." 

The  explanation,  I  am  bound  to  say,  was  one 
that  half  the  world  considers  valid;  it  was  one 
that  squeezed  through  the  courts.  And  when  it 
was  done,  and  the  whole  thing  had  blown  over, 
who  cared?  There  were  some  bondholders  who 
said  that  it  was  rascally,  that  they  had  been  boldly 
swindled.  In  the  clubs,  long  after,  you  would  hear 
it  said  that  Hollo  well  and  Henderson  were  awfully 
sharp,  and  hard  to  beat.  It  is  a  very  bad  business, 
said  the  Brandon  parliament,  and  it  just  shows  that 
the  whole  country  is  losing  its  moral  sense,  its  ca 
pacity  to  judge  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong. 

I  do  not  say  that  this  explanation,  the  nature  of 
which  I  have  only  indicated,  would  have  satisfied 
the  clear  mind  of  Margaret  a  year  or  two  before. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  317 

But  it  was  made  by  the  man  she  loved,  the  man 
who  had  brought  her  out  into  a  world  that  was  full 
of  sunlight  and  prosperity  and  satisfied  desire ;  and 
more  and  more,  day  by  day,  she  saw  the  world 
through  his  eyes,  and  accepted  his  estimate  of  the 
motives  of  people — and  a  low  estimate  I  fear  it  was. 
Who  would  not  be  rich  if  he  could  ?  Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  a  man  who  is  getting  fat  dividends 
out  of  a  stock  does  not  regard  more  leniently  the 
manner  in  which  that  stock  is  manipulated  than 
one  who  does  not  own  any  of  it  ?  I  dare  say,  if 
Carmen  had  heard  that  explanation,  and  seen  Mar 
garet's  tearful,  happy  acceptance  of  it,  she  would 
have  shaken  her  pretty  head  and  said,  "  They  are 
getting  too  worldly  for  me." 

In  the  morning  the  letter  was  despatched  to  Miss 
Forsythe,  enclosing  the  check  for  Mrs.  Fletcher— a 
joyful  note,  full  of  affection.  "We  cannot  come," 
Margaret  wrote.  "  My  husband  cannot  leave,  and 
he  does  not  want  to  spare  me" — the  little  hypo 
crite  !  he  had  told  her  that  she  could  easily  go  for 
a  day — "but  we  shall  think  of  you  dear  ones  all 
day,  and  I  do  hope  that  now  there  will  not  be  the 
least  cloud  on  your  Christmas."  | 

It  seems  a  great  pity,  in  view  of  the  scientific  or 
ganization  of  society,  that  there  are  so  many  sensi 
bilities  unclassified  and  unprovided  for  in  the  oth 
erwise  perfect  machinery.  Why  should  the  beggar 
to  whom  you  toss  a  silver  dollar  from  your  carriage 


318  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

feel  a  little  grudge  against  you  ?  Perhaps  be 
wouldn't  like  to  earn  the  dollar,  but  if  it  had  been 
accompanied  by  a  word  of  sympathy,  his  sensibili 
ty  might  have  been  soothed  by  your  recognition 
of  human  partnership  in  the  goods  of  this  world. 
People  not  paupers  are  all  eager  to  take  what  is 
theirs  of  right ;  but  anything  in  the  semblance  of 
charity  is  a  bitter  pill  to  swallow  until  self-respect 
is  a  little  broken  down.  Probably  the  resentment 
lies  in  the  recognition  of  the  truth  that  it  is  much 
easier  to  be  charitable  than  to  be  just.  If  Marga 
ret  had  seen  the  effect  produced  by  her  letter  she 
might  have  thought  of  this ;  she  might  have  gone 
further,  and  reflected  upon  what  would  have  been 
her  own  state  of  mind  two  years  earlier  if  she  had 
received  such  a  letter.  Miss  Forsythe  read  it  with 
a  very  heavy  heart.  She  hesitated  about  showing 
it  to  Mrs.  Fletcher,  and  when  she  did,  and  gave  her 
the  check,  it  was  with  a  sense  of  shame. 

"  The  insolence  of  the  thing !"  cried  Mrs.  Fletch 
er,  as  soon  as  she  comprehended  it. 

"  Not  insolence,"  pleaded  Miss  Forsythe,  softly ; 
"it  is  out  of  the  kindness  of  her  heart.  She  would 
be  dreadfully  wounded  to  know  that  you  took  it 
so." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Fletcher,  hotly,  "  I  like  that 
kind  of  sensibility.  Does  she  think  I  have  no  feel 
ing?  Does  she  think  I  would  take  from  her  as  a 
charity  what  her  husband  knows  is  mine  by  right  ?" 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  319 

"  Perhaps  her  husband — 

"  No,"  Mrs.  Fletcher  interrupted.  "  Why  didn't 
he  send  it,  then  ?  why  didn't  the  company  send  it  ? 
They  owe  it.  I'm  not  a  pauper.  And  all  the  other 
bondholders  who  need  the  money  as  much  as  I  do ! 
I'm  not  saying  that  if  the  company  sent  it  I  should 
refuse  it  because  the  others  had  been  treated  un 
justly  ;  but  to  take  it  as  a  favor,  like  a  beggar !" 

"  Of  course  you  cannot  take  it  from  Margaret," 
said  Miss  Forsythe,  sadly.  "  How  dreadful  it  is !" 

Mrs.  Fletcher  would  have  shared  her  last  crust 
with  Miss  Forsythe,  and  if  her  own  fortune  were 
absolutely  lost,  she  would  not  hesitate  to  accept 
the  shelter  of  her  present  home,  using  her  energies 
to  add  to  their  limited  income,  serving  and  being 
served  in  all  love  and  trust.  But  this  is  different 
from  taking  a  bounty  from  the  rich. 

The  check  had  to  go  back.  Even  my  wife,  who 
saw  no  insolence  in  Margaret's  attempt,  applauded 
Mrs.  Fletcher's  spirit.  She  told  Miss  Forsythe  that 
if  things  did  not  mend  they  might  get  a  few  little 
pupils  for  Mrs.  Fletcher  from  the  neighborhood, 
and  Miss  Forsythe  knew  that  she  was  thinking 
that  her  own  boy  might  have  been  one  of  them 
if  he  had  lived.  Mr.  Morgan  wTas  a  little  satiri 
cal,  as  usual.  He  thought  it  wrould  be  a  pity  to 
check  Margaret's  growing  notion  that  there  was  no 
wrong  that  money  could  not  heal — a  remark  that 
my  wife  thought  unjust  to  the  girl.  Mrs.  Fletcher 


320  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

was  for  re-enclosing  the  check  without  a  word  of 
comment,  but  that  Miss  Forsythe  would  not  do. 

"  My  clearest  Margaret,"  she  wrote,  "  I  know  the 
kindness  of  heart  that  moved  you  to  do  this,  and  I 
love  you  more  than  ever,  and  am  crying  as  I  think 
of  it.  But  you  must  see  yourself,  when  you  reflect, 
that  Mrs.  Fletcher  could  not  take  this  from  you. 
Her  self-respect  would  not  permit  it.  Somebody 
has  done  a  great  wrong,  and  only  those  who  have 
done  it  can  undo  it.  I  don't  know  much  about  such 
things,  my  dear,  and  I  don't  believe  all  that  the 
newspapers  have  been  saying,  but  there  would  be 
no  need  for  charity  if  there  had  not  been  dishon 
esty  somewhere.  I  cannot  help  thinking  that.  We 
do  not  blame  you.  And  you  must  not  take  it  to 
heart  that  I  am  compelled  to  send  this  back.  I 
understand  why  you  sent  it,  and  you  must  try  to 
understand  why  it  cannot  be  kept." 

There  was  more  of  this  sort  in  the  letter.  It  was 
full  of  a  kind  of  sorrowful  yearning,  as  if  there  was 
fear  that  Margaret's  love  were  slipping  away  and 
all  the  old  relations  were  being  broken  up,  but  yet 
it  had  in  it  a  certain  moral  condemnation  that  the 
Kew  England  spinster  could  not  conceal.  Softened 
as  it  was  by  affectionate  words,  and  all  the  loving 
messages  of  the  season,  it  was  like  a  slap  in  the 
face  to  Margaret.  She  read  it  in  the  first  place 
with  intense  mortification,  and  then  with  indigna 
tion.  This  was  the  way  her  loving  spirit  was  flung 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  321 

back  upon  her !  They  did  not  blame  her  !  They 
blamed  her  husband,  then.  They  condemned  him. 
It  was  his  generosity  that  was  spurned. 

Is  there  a  particular  moment  when  we  choose 
our  path  in  life,  when  we  take  the  right  or  the  left  ? 
At  this  instant,  when  Margaret  arose  with  the 
crumpled  letter  in  her  hand,  and  marched  towards 
her  husband's  library,  did  she  choose,  or  had  she 
been  choosing  for  the  two  years  past,  and  was  this 
only  a  publication  of  her  election  ?  Why  had  she 
secretly  been  a  little  relieved  from  restraint  when 
her  Brandon  visit  ended  in  the  spring  ?  They  were 
against  her  husband ;  they  disapproved  of  him, 
that  was  clear.  Was  it  not  a  wife's  duty  to  stand 
by  her  husband  ?  She  was  indignant  with  the  Bran 
don  scrupulousness ;  it  chafed  her.  Was  this  sim 
ply  because  she  loved  her  husband,  or  was  this  in 
dignation  a  little  due  also  to  her  liking  for  the 
world  which  so  fell  in  with  her  inclinations  1  The 
motives  in  life  are  so  mixed  that  it  seems  impos 
sible  wholly  to  condemn  or  wholly  to  approve.  If 
Margaret's  destiny  had  been  united  with  such  a 
man  as  John  Lyon,  what  would  have  been  her  dis 
cernment  in  such  a  case  as  this  ?  It  is  such  a  pity 
that  for  most  people  there  is  only  one  chance  in  life. 

She  laid  the  letter  and  the  check  upon  her  hus 
band's  desk.    He  read  it  with  a  slight  frown,  which 
changed  to  a  smile  of  amusement  as  he  looked  up 
and  saw  Margaret's  excitement. 
21 


322  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"Well,  it  was  a  miss-go.  Those  folks  up  there 
are  too  good,  for  this  world.  You'd  better  send  it 
to  the  hospital." 

"But  you  see  that  they  say  they  do  not  blame 
me"  Margaret  said,  with  warmth. 

"  Oh,  I  can  stand  it.  People  usually  don't  try  to 
hurt  my  feelings  that  way.  Don't  mind  it,  child. 
They  will  come  to  their  senses,  and  see  what  non 
sense  it  all  is." 

Yes,  it  was  nonsense.  And  how  generous  and 
kind  at  heart  her  husband  was  !  In  his  skilful  mak 
ing  little  of  it  she  was  very  much  comforted,  and  at 
the  same  time  drawn  into  more  perfect  sympathy 
with  him.  She  was  glad  she  was  not  going  to 
Brandon  for  Christmas  ;  she  would  not  submit  her 
self  to  its  censorship.  The  note  of  acknowledg 
ment  she  wrote  to  her  aunt  was  short  and  almost 
formal.  She  was  very  sorry  they  looked  at  the 
matter  in  that  way.  She  thought  she  was  doing 
right,  and  they  might  blame  her  or  not,  but  her 
aunt  wrould  see  that  she  could  not  permit  any  dis 
tinction  to  be  set  up  between  her  and  her  hus 
band,  etc. 

Was  this  little  note  a  severance  of  her  present 
from  her  old  life  ?  I  do  not  suppose  she  regarded 
it  so.  If  she  had  fully  realized  that  it  was  a  step 
in  that  direction,  would  she  have  penned  it  with  so 
little  regret  as  she  felt  ?  Or  did  she  think  that  cir 
cumstances  and  not  her  own  choice  were  responsi- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  323 

ble  for  her  state  of  feeling  ?  She  was  mortified,  as 
has  been  said,  but  she  wrote  with  more  indignation 
than  pain. 

A  year  ago  Carmen  would  have  been  the  last 
person  to  whom  Margaret  would  have  spoken  about 
a  family  affair  of  this  kind.  Nor  would  she  have 
done  so  now,  notwithstanding  the  intimacy  estab 
lished  at  Newport,  if  Carmen  had  not  happened  in 
that  day,  when  Margaret  was  still  hurt  and  excited, 
and  skilfully  and  most  sympathetically  extracted 
from  her  the  cause  of  the  mood  she  found  her  in. 
But  even  with  all  these  allowances,  that  Margaret 
should  confide  such  a  matter  to  Carmen  was  the 
most  startling  sign  of  the  change  that  had  taken 
place  in  her. 

"Well,"  said  this  wise  person,  after  she  had 
wormed  out  the  whole  story,  and  expressed  her 
profound  sympathy,  and  then  fallen  into  an  atti 
tude  of  deep  reflection — "  well,  I  wish  I  could  cast 
my  bread  upon  the  waters  in  that  way.  What  are 
you  going  to  do  with  the  money  ?" 

"  I've  sent  it  to  the  hospital." 

"What  extravagance!  And  did  you  tell  your 
aunt  that  ?" 

"  Of  course  not." 

"  Why  not  ?  I  couldn't  have  resisted  such  a 
righteous  chance  of  making  her  feel  bad." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to  make  her  feel  bad." 

"  Just  a  little  ?     You  will  never  convince  people 


324  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

that  you  are  unworldly  this  way.  Even  Uncle 
Jerry  wouldn't  do  that." 

"You  and  Uncle  Jerry  are  very  much  alike/' 
cried  Margaret,  laughing  in  spite  of  herself — "  both 
of  you  as  bad  as  you  can  be." 

"  But,  dear,  we  don't  pretend,  do  we?"  asked  Car 
men,  innocently. 

To  some  of  us  at  Brandon,  Margaret's  letter  was 
scarcely  a  surprise,  though  it  emphasized  a  diver 
gence  we  had  been  conscious  of.  But  with  Miss 
Forsythe  it  was  far  otherwise.  The  coolness  of 
Margaret's  tone  filled  her  with  alarm ;  it  was  the 
premonition  of  a  future  which  she  did  not  dare  to 
face.  There  was  a  passage  in  the  letter  which  she 
did  not  show ;  not  that  it  was  unfeeling,  she  told 
my  wife  afterwards,  but  that  it  exhibited  a  world- 
ly-mindedness  that  she  could  not  have  conceived  of 
in  Margaret.  She  could  bear  separation  from  the 
girl  on  whom  she  had  bestowed  her  tenderest  affec 
tion,  that  she  had  schooled  herself  to  expect  upon 
her  marriage — that,  indeed,  was  only  a  part  of  her 
life  of  willing  self-sacrifice  —  their  paths  must  lie 
apart,  and  she  could  hope  to  see  little  of  her.  But 
wrhat  she  could  not  bear  was  the  separation  in 
spirit,  the  wrenching  apart  of  sympathy,  the  loss 
of  her  heart,  and  the  thought  of  her  going  farther 
and  farther  away  into  that  world  whose  cynical 
and  materialistic  view  of  life  made  her  shudder. 
I  think  there  are  few  tragedies  in  life  comparable 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  325 

to  this  to  a  sensitive,  trusting  soul — not  death  itself, 
with  its  gracious  healing  and  oblivion  and  pathos. 
Family  quarrels  have  something  sustaining  in  them, 
something  of  a  sense  of  wrong  and  even  indigna 
tion  to  keep  up  the  spirits.  There  was  no  family 
quarrel  here,  no  indignation,  just  simple,  helpless 
grief  and  sense  of  loss.  In  one  sense  it  seemed  to 
the  gentle  spinster  that  her  own  life  was  ended, 
she  had  lived  so  in  this  girl — ever  since  she  came 
to  her  a  child,  in  long  curls  and  short  frocks,  the 
sweetest,  most  trustful,  mischievous,  affectionate 
thing.  These  two  then  never  had  had  any  secrets, 
never  any  pleasure,  never  any  griefs  they  did  not 
share.  She  had  seen  the  child's  mind  unfold,  the 
girl's  grace  and  intelligence,  the  woman's  charac 
ter.  Oh,  Margaret,  she  cried,  to  herself,  if  you  only 
knew  what  you  are  to  me  ! 

Margaret's  little  chamber  in  the  cottage  was 
always  kept  ready  for  her,  much  in  the  condition 
she  had  left  it.  She  might  come  back  at  any  time, 
and  be  a  girl  again.  Here  were  many  of  the  things 
which  she  had  cherished ;  indeed  everything  in  the 
room  spoke  of  the  simple  days  of  her  maidenhood. 
It  was  here  that  Miss  Forsythe  sat  in  her  loneli 
ness  the  morning  after  she  received  the  letter,  by 
the  window  with  the  muslin  curtain,  looking  out 
through  the  shrubbery  to  tho  blue  hills.  She  must 
be  here ;  she  could  stay  nowhere  else  in  the  house, 
for  here  the  little  Margaret  came  back  to  her.  Ah, 


326  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

and  when  she  turned,  would  she  hear  the  quick 
steps  and  see  the  smiling  face,  and  would  she  put 
back  the  tangled  hair  and  lift  her  up  and  kiss  her  ? 
There  in  that  closet  still  hung  articles  of  her  cloth 
ing — dresses  that  had  been  laid  aside  when  she  be 
came  a  wroman — kept  with  the  sacred  sentiment  of 
New  England  thrift.  How  each  one,  as  Miss  For- 
sythe  took  them  down,  recalled  the  girl !  In  the 
inner  closet  was  a  pile  of  paper  boxes.  I  do  not 
know  what  impulse  it  was  that  led  the  heavy- 
hearted  woman  to  take  them  down  one  by  one, 
and  indulge  her  grief  in  the  memories  enshrined 
in  them.  In  one  was  a  little  bonnet,  a  spring  bon 
net  ;  Margaret  had  worn  it  on  the  Easter  Sunday 
when  she  took  her  first  communion.  The  little 
thing  was  out  of  fashion  now ;  the  ribbons  were 
all  faded,  but  the  spray  of  moss  rose-buds  on  the 
side  was  almost  as  fresh  as  ever.  How  well  she 
remembered  it,  and  the  girl's  delight  in  the  nod 
ding  roses ! 

When  Mrs.  Fletcher  had  called  again  and  again, 
with  no  response,  and  finally  opened  the  door  and 
peeped  in,  there  the  spinster  sat  by  the  window, 
the  pitiful  little  bonnet  in  her  hand,  and  the  tears 
rolling  down  her  cheeks.  God  help  her ! 


XIX. 

THE  medical  faculty  are  of  the  opinion  that  a 
sprain  is  often  worse  than  a  broken  limb  ;  a  purely 
scientific  view  of  the  matter,  in  which  the  patient 
usually  does  not  coincide.  "Well-bred  people  shrink 
from  the  vulgarity  of  violence,  and  avoid  the  pub 
licity  of  any  open  rupture  in  domestic  and  social 
relations.  And  yet,  perhaps,  a  lively  quarrel  would 
be  less  lamentable  than  the  withering  away  of 
friendship  while  appearances  are  kept  up.  Noth 
ing,  indeed,  is  more  pitiable  than  the  gradual  drift 
ing  apart  of  people  who  have  been  dear  to  each 
other  —  a  severance  produced  by  change  of  views 
and  of  principle,  and  the  substitution  of  indiffer 
ence  for  sympathy.  This  disintegration  is  certain 
to  take  the  spring  and  taste  out  of  life,  and  com 
monly  to  habituate  one  to  a  lower  view  of  human 
nature. 

There  was  no  rupture  between  the  Hendersons 
and  the  Brandon  circle,  but  there  was  little  inter 
course  of  the  kind  that  had  existed  before.  There 
was  with  us  a  profound  sense  of  loss  and  sorrow, 
due  partly  to  the  growing  knowledge,  not  pleasing 
to  our  vanity,  that  Margaret  could  get  on  very  well 


328  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

without  us,-  that  we  were  not  necessary  to  her  life. 
Miss  Forsythe  recovered  promptly  her  cheerful 
serenity,  but  not  the  elasticity  of  hope ;  she  was 
irretrievably  hurt ;  it  was  as  if  life  was  now  to  be 
endured.  That  Margaret  herself  was  apparently 
unconscious  of  this,  and  that  it  did  not  affect  much 
her  own  enjoyment,  made  it  the  harder  to  bear. 
The  absolute  truth  probably  was  that  she  regretted 
it,  and  had  moments  of  sentimental  unhappiness ; 
but  there  is  great  compensation  for  such  loss  in  the 
feeling  of  freedom  to  pursue  a  career  that  is  more 
and  more  agreeable.  And  I  had  to  confess,  when 
occasionally  I  saw  Margaret  during  that  winter, 
that  she  did  not  need  us.  "Why  should  she  ?  Did 
not  the  city  offer  her  everything  that  she  desired  ? 
And  where  in  the  world  are  beauty,  and  gayety 
with  a  touch  of  daring,  and  a  magnificent  estab 
lishment  better  appreciated  ?  I  do  not  know  what 
criterion  newspaper  notoriety  is  of  social  prestige, 
but  Mrs.  Kodney  Henderson's  movements  were  as 
faithfully  chronicled  as  if  she  had  been  a  visiting 
princess  or  an  actress  of  eccentric  proclivities.  Her 
name  appeared  as  patroness  of  all  the  charities,  the 
balls,  the  soirees,  musical  and  literary,  and  if  it  did 
not  appear  in  a  list  of  the  persons  at  any  entertain 
ment,  one  might  suspect  that  the  affair  lacked  the 
cachet  of  the  best  society.  I  suppose  the  final  test 
of  one's  importance  is  to  have  all  the  details  of 
one's  wardrobe  spread  before  the  public.  Judged 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  329 

by  this,  Margaret's  career  in  New  York  was  phe 
nomenal.  Even  our  interested  household  could  not 
follow  her  in  all  the  changing  splendor  of  her  rai 
ment.  In  time  even  Miss  Forsythe  ceased  to  read 
all  these  details,  but  she  cut  them  out,  deposited 
them  with  other  relics  in  a  sort  of  mortuary  box  of 
the  child  and  the  maiden.  I  used  to  wonder  if,  in 
the  Brandon  attitude  of  mind  at  this  period,  there 
were  not  just  a  little  envy  of  such  unclouded  pros 
perity.  It  is  so  much  easier  to  forgive  a  failure 
than  a  success. 

In  the  spring  the  Hendersons  went  abroad.  The 
resolution  ta  go  may  have  been  sudden,  for  Mar 
garet  wrote  of  it  briefly,  and  had  not  time  to  run 
up  and  say  good-bye.  The  newspapers  said  that 
the  trip  was  taken  on  account  of  Mrs.  Henderson's 
health  ;  that  it  wTas  because  Henderson  needed  rest 
from  overwork ;  that  he  found  it  convenient  to  be 
away  for  a  time,  pending  the  settlement  of  certain 
complications.  There  were  ugly  stories  afloat,  but 
they  were  put  in  so  many  forms,  and  followed  by 
so  many  different  sorts  of  denial,  and  so  much  im 
portance  was  attached  to  every  wTord  Henderson 
uttered,  and  every  step  he  took,  that  the  general 
impression  of  his  far-reaching  sagacity  and  Napo 
leonic  command  of  fortune  was  immensely  raised. 
Nothing  is  more  significant  of  our  progress  than 
the  good-humored  deference  of  the  world  to  this 
sort  of  success.  It  is  said  that  the  attraction  of 


330  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

gravitation  lessens  according  to  the  distance  from 
the  earth,  and  there  seems  to  be  a  region  of  aerial 
freedom,  if  one  can  attain  it,  where  the  moral  forces 
cease  to  be  operative. 

They  remained  in  Europe  a  year,  although  Mr. 
Henderson  in  the  interim  made  t\vo  or  three  hasty 
trips  to  this  country,  always,  so  far  as  it  was  made 
public,  upon  errands  of  great  importance,  and  in 
connection  with  names  of  well-known  foreign  capi 
talists  and  enterprises  of  dignity.  Margaret  wrote 
seldom,  but  always  with  evident  enjoyment  of  her 
experiences,  which  were  mainly  social,  for  wherever 
they  went  they  commanded  the  consideration  that 
is  accorded  to  fortune.  What  most  impressed  me 
in  these  hasty  notes  was  that  the  woman  was  so 
little  interested  in  the  persons  and  places  which  in 
the  old  days  she  expressed  such  a  lively  desire  to 
see.  If  she  saw  them  at  all,  it  was  from  a  different 
point  of  view  than  that  she  formerly  had.  She  did 
indeed  express  her  admiration  of  some  charming 
literary  friends  of  ours  in  London,  to  whom  I  had 
written  to  call  on  her — people  in  very  moderate 
circumstances,  I  am  ashamed  to  say — but  she  had 
not  time  to  see  much  of  them.  She  and  her  hus 
band  had  spent  a  couple  of  days  at  Chisholm — de 
lightful  days.  Of  the  earl  she  had  literally  nothing 
to  say,  except  that  he  was  very  kind,  and  that  his 
family  received  them  with  the  most  engaging  and 
simple  cordiality.  "  It  makes  me  laugh,"  she  wrote 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  331 

from  Chisholm,  "  when  I  think  what  we  considered 
fine  at  Lenox  and  Newport.  I've  got  some  ideas 
for  our  new  house."  A  note  came  from  "John 
Lyon  "  to  Miss  Forsythe,  expressing  the  great  pleas 
ure  it  was  to  return,  even  in  so  poor  a  way,  the  hos 
pitality  he  had  received  at  Brandon.  I  did  not  see 
it,  but  Miss  Forsythe  said  it  was  a  sad  little  note.. 

In  Paris  Margaret  was  ill  —  very  ill;  and  tms 
misfortune  caused  for  a  time  a  revival  of  all  the 
old  affection,  in  sympathy  with  a  disappointment 
which  awoke  in  our  womankind  all  the  tenderness 
of  their  natures.  She  was  indeed  a  little  delicate 
for  some  time,  but  all  our  apprehensions  were  re 
lieved  by  the  reports  from  Rome  of  a  succession 
of  gayeties  little  interfered  with  by  archa3ologi- 
cal  studies.  They  returned  in  June.  Of  the  year 
abroad  there  was  nothing  to  chronicle,  and  there 
would  be  nothing  to  note  except  that  when  Mar 
garet  passed  a  day  with  us  on  her  return,  we  felt, 
as  never  before,  that  our  interests  in  life  were  more 
and  more  divergent. 

How  could  it  be  otherwise?  There  were  so  many 
topics  of  conversation  that  we  had  to  avoid.  Even 
light  remarks  on  current  news,  comments  that  we 
used  to  make  freely  on  the  conduct  of  conspicuous 
persons,  now  carried  condemnation  that  took  a  per 
sonal  color.  The  doubtful  means  of  making  money, 
the  pace  of  fashionable  life,  the  wasteful  prodigality 
of  the  time,  we  instinctively  shrank  from  speaking 


332  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

of  before  Margaret.  Perhaps  we  did  her  injustice. 
She  was  never  more  gracious,  never  more  anxious 
to  please.  I  fancied  that  there  was  at  times  some 
thing  pathetic  in  her  wistful  desire  for  our  affection 
and  esteem.  She  was  always  a  generous  girl,  and 
I  have  no  doubt  she  felt  repelled  at  the  quiet  re 
jection  of  her  well-meant  efforts  to  play  the  Lady 
Bountiful.  There  were  moments  during  her  brief 
visit  when  her  face  was  very  sad,  but  no  doubt  her 
predominant  feeling  escaped  her  in  regard  to  the 
criticism  quoted  from  somebody  on  Jerry  Hollo- 
well's  methods  and  motives.  "  People  are  becom 
ing  very  self-righteous,"  she  said.  My  wife  said  to 
me  that  she  was  reminded  of  the  gentle  observa 
tion  of  Carmen  Eschelle,  "  The  people  I  cannot 
stand  are  those  who  pretend  they  are  not  wicked." 
If  one  does  not  believe  in  anybody  his  cynicism  has 
usually  a  quality  of  contemptuous  bitterness  in  it. 
One  brought  up  as  Margaret  had  been  could  not 
very  well  come  to  her  present  view  of  life  without 
a  touch  of  this  quality,  but  her  disposition  was  so 
lovely — perhaps  there  is  no  moral  quality  in  a  good 
temper — that  change  of  principle  could  not  much 
affect  it.  And  then  she  was  never  more  winning  ; 
perhaps  her  beauty  had  taken  on  a  more  refined 
quality  from  her  illness  abroad ;  perhaps  it  was  that 
indefinable  knowledge  of  the  world,  which  is  recog 
nized  as  well  in  dress  as  in  manner,  which  increased 
her  attractiveness.  This  was  quite  apart  from  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  333 

fact  that  she  was  not  so  sympathetically  compan 
ionable  to  us  as  she  once  was,  and  it  was  this  very 
attractiveness  of  the  worldly  sort,  I  fancied,  that 
pained  her  aunt,  and  marked  the  separateness  of 
their  sympathies. 

How  could  it  be  otherwise  than  that  our  inter 
ests  should  diverge  ?  It  was  a  very  busy  summer 
with  the  Hendersons.  They  were  planning  the 
."New  York  house,  which  had  been  one  of  the  objects 
of  Henderson's  early  ambition.  The  sea -air  had 
been  prescribed  for  Margaret,  and  Henderson  had 
built  a  steam-yacht,  the  equipment  and  furnishing 
of  which  had  been  a  prolific  newspaper  topic.  It 
was  greatly  admired  by  yachtsmen  for  the  beauty 
of  its  lines  and  its  speed,  and  pages  were  written 
about  its  sumptuous  and  comfortable  interior.  I 
never  saw  it,  having  little  faith  in  the  comfort  of 
any  structure  that  is  not  immovably  reposeful,  but 
from  the  descriptions  it  was  a  boudoir  afloat.  In 
it  short  voyages  were  made  during  the  summer  all 
along  the  coast  from  Kew  York  to  Maine,  and  the 
arrival  and  departure  of  the  Henderson  yacht  was 
one  of  the  telegraphic  items  we  always  looked  for. 
Carmen  Eschelle  was  usually  of  the  party  on  board, 
sometimes  the  Misses  Arbuser ;  it  was  always  a  gay 
company,  and  in  whatever  harbor  it  dropped  anch 
or  there  was  a  new  impetus  given  to  the  some 
what  languid  pleasure  of  the  summer  season.  We 
read  of  the  dinners  and  lunches  on  board,  the  en- 


334:  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

tertainments  where  there  were  wine  and  dancing 
and  moonlight,  and  all  that.  I  always  thought 
of  it  as  a  fairy  sort  of  ship,  sailing  on  summer 
seas,  freighted  with  youth  and  beauty,  and  carry 
ing  pleasure  and  good -fortune  wherever  it  went. 
What  more  pleasing  spectacle  than  this  in  a 
world  that  has  such  a  bad  name  for  want  and 
misery  ? 

Henderson  was  master  of  the  situation.  The 
sudden  accumulation  of  millions  of  money  is  a 
mystery  to  most  people.  If  Henderson  had  been 
asked  about  it,  he  would  have  said  that  he  had  not 
a  dollar  which  he  had  not  earned  by  hard  work. 
None  worked  harder.  If  simple  industry  is  a  virt 
ue,  he  would  have  been  an  example  for  Sunday- 
school  children.  The  object  of  life  being  to  make 
money,  he  would  have  been  a  perfect  example. 
What  an  inspiration,  indeed,  for  all  poor  boys 
were  the  names  of  Hollowell  and  Henderson, 
which  were  as  familiar  as  the  name  of  the  Presi 
dent  !  There  was  much  speculation  as  to  the 
amount  of  Henderson's  fortune,  and  many  wild 
estimates  of  it,  but  by  common  consent  he  was 
one  of  the  three  or  four  great  capitalists.  The 
gauge  of  this  was  his  pOAver,  and  the  amounts  he 
could  command  in  an  emergency.  There  was  a 
mystery  in  the  very  fact  that  the  amount  he  could 
command  was  unknown.  I  have  said  that  his  ac 
cumulation  was  sudden ;  it  was  probably  so  only 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  335 

in  appearance.  For  a  dozen  years,  by  operations, 
various,  secret,  untiring,  he  had  been  laying  the 
foundations  for  his  success,  and  in  the  maturing  of 
his  schemes  it  became  apparent  how  vast  his  trans 
actions  had  been.  For  years  he  had  been  known 
as  a  rising  man,  and  suddenly  he  became  an 
important  man.  The  telegraph,  the  newspapers, 
chronicled  his  every  movement ;  whatever  he  said 
was  construed  like  a  Delphic  oracle.  The  smile 
or  the  frown  of  Jay  Hawker  himself  had  not  a 
greater  effect  upon  the  market. 

The  South-west  operation,  which  made  so  much 
noise  in  the  courts,  was  merely  an  incident.  In 
the  lives  of  many  successful  men  there  are  such 
incidents,  which  they  do  not  care  to  have  inquired 
into,  turning-points  that  one  slides  over  in  the  sub 
sequent  gilded  biography,  or,  as  it  is  called,  the 
nickel  -  plated  biography.  The  uncomfortable  A. 
and  B.  bondholders  had  been  settled  with  and 
silenced,  after  a  fashion.  In  the  end,  Mrs.  Fletch 
er  had  received  from  the  company  nearly  the  full 
amount  of  her  investment.  I  always  thought  this 
was  due  to  Margaret,  but  I  made  no  inquiries. 
There  were  many  people  who  had  no  confidence 
in  Henderson,  but  generally  his  popularity  Avas 
not  much  affected,  and  whatever  was  said  of  him 
in  private,  his  social  position  was  almost  as  unchal 
lenged  as  his  financial.  It  was  a  great  point  in  his 
favor  that  he  was  very  generous  to  his  family  and 


336  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

his  friends,  and  his  public  charities  began  to  be 
talked  of.  Nothing  could  have  been  more  admi 
rable  than  a  paper  which  appeared  about  this  time 
in  one  of  the  leading  magazines,  written  by  a  great 
capitalist  during  a  strike  in  his  "  system,"  on  the 
uses  of  wealth  and  the  responsibilities  of  rich  men. 
It  amused  Henderson  and  Uncle  Jerry,  and  Mar 
garet  sent  it,  marked,  to  her  aunt.  Uncle  Jerry 
said  it  was  very  timely,  for  at  the  moment  there 
was  a  report  that  Hollowell  and  Henderson  had 
obtained  possession  of  one  of  the  great  steamship 
lines  in  connection  with  their  trans-continental  sys 
tem.  I  thought  at  the  time  that  I  should  like  to 
have  heard  Carmen's  comments  on  the  paper. 

The  continued  friendly  alliance  of  Rodney  Hen 
derson  and  Jerry  Hollowell  was  a  marvel  to  the 
public,  which  expected  to  read  any  morning  that 
the  one  had  sold  out  the  other,  or  unloaded  in  a 
sly  deal.  The  Stock  Exchange  couldn't  under 
stand  it ;  it  was  so  against  all  experience  that  it 
was  considered  something  outside  of  human  nat 
ure.  But  the  explanation  was  simple  enough. 
The  two  kept  a  sharp  eye  on  each  other,  and,  as 
Uncle  Jerry  would  say,  never  dropped  a  stitch ; 
but  the  simple  fact  was  that  they  were  necessary 
to  each  other,  and  there  had  been  no  opportunity 
when  the  one  could  handsomely  swallow  the  other. 
So  it  was  beautiful  to  see  their  accord,  and  the 
familiar  understanding  between  them. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  337 

One  day  in  Henderson's  office — it  was  at  the 
time  they  were  arranging  the  steamship  "  scoop  " 
—while  they  were  waiting  for  the  drafting  of 
some  papers,  Uncle  Jerry  suddenly  asked, 

"  By  the  way,  old  man,  what's  all  this  about  a 
quarter  of  a  million  for  a  colored  college  down 
South  ?" 

"  Oh,  that's  Mrs.  Henderson's  affair.  They  say 
it's  the  most  magnificent  college  building  south  of 
Washington.  It's  big  enough.  I've  seen  the  plan 
of  it.  Henderson  Hall,  they  are  going  to  call  it. 
I  suggested  Margaret  Henderson  Hall,  but  she 
wouldn't  have  it." 

"What  is  it  for?" 

"  One  end  of  it  is  scientific,  geological,  chemical, 
electric,  biological,  and  all  that ;  and  the  other  end 
is  theological.  Miss  Eschelle  says  it's  to  reconcile 
science  and  religion." 

"  She's  a  daisy — that  girl.  Seems  to  me,  though, 
that  you  are  educating  the  colored  brother  all  on 
top.  I  suppose,  however,  it  wouldn't  have  been  so 
philanthropic  to  build  a  hall  for  a  white  college." 

Henderson  laughed.  "  You  keep  your  eye  on  the 
religious  sentiment  of  the  North,  Uncle  Jerry.  I 
told  Mrs.  Henderson  that  we  had  gone  long  on  the 
colored  brother  a  good  while.  She  said  this  was 
nothing.  We  could  endow  a  Henderson  University 
by-and-by  in  the  South-west  white  as  alabaster,  and 
I  suppose  we  shall." 
22 


338  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"Yes,  probably  we've  got  to  do  something  in 
that  region  to  keep  'em  quiet.  The  public  is  a  cu 
rious  fish.  It  wants  plenty  of  bait." 

"And  something  to  talk  about,"  continued  Hen 
derson.  "  We  are  going  down  next  week  to  dedi 
cate  Henderson  Hall.  I  couldn't  get  out  of  it." 

"  Oh,  it  will  pay,"  said  Uncle  Jerry,  as  he  turned 
again  to  business. 

The  trip  was  made  in  Henderson's  private  car ; 
in  fact,  in  a  special  train,  vestibuled ;  a  neat  bag 
gage  car  with  library  and  reading-room  in  one  end, 
a  dining-room  car,  a  private  car  for  invited  guests, 
and  his  own  car — a  luxurious  structure,  with  draw 
ing-room,  sleeping-room,  bath-room,  and  office  for 
his  telegrapher  and  type- writer.  The  whole  was  a 
most  commodious  house  of  one  story  on  wheels. 
The  cost  of  it  would  have  built  and  furnished  an 
industrial  school  and  workshop  for  a  hundred  ne 
groes  ;  but  this  train  was,  I  dare  say,  a  much  more 
inspiring  example  of  what  they  might  attain  by  the 
higher  education.  There  were  half  a  dozen  in  the 
party  besides  the  Hendersons — Carmen,  of  course ; 
Mr.  Ponsonby,  the  English  attache ;  and  Mrs.  La- 
flamme,  to  matronize  three  New  York  young  ladies. 
Margaret  and  Carmen  had  never  been  so  far  South 
before. 

Is  it  not  agreeable  to  have  sweet  charity  silver 
shod?  This  sumptuous  special  train  caused  as 
much  comment  as  the  errand  on  which  it  went. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  339 

Its  coining  was  telegraphed  from  station  to  station, 
and  crowds  everywhere  collected  to  see  it.  Brisk 
reporters  boarded  it ;  the  newspapers  devoted  col 
umns  to  descriptions  of  it ;  editorials  glorified  it  as 
a  signal  example  of  the  progress  of  the  great  repub 
lic,  or  moralized  on  it  as  a  sign  of  the  luxurious  de 
cadence  of  morals,  pointing  to  Carthage  and  Kome 
and  Alexandria  in  withering  sarcasm  that  made 
those  places  sink  into  insignificance  as  corrupters 
of  the  world.  There  were  covert  allusions  to  Cleo 
patra  ensconced  in  the  silken  hangings  of  the  bou 
doir  car,  and  one  reporter  went  so  far  as  to  refer 
to  the  luxury  of  Capua  and  Baia?,  to  their  dispar 
agement.  All  this,  however,  was  felt  to  add  to  the 
glory  of  the  republic,  and  it  all  increased  the  im 
portance  of  Henderson.  To  hear  the  exclamations, 
"  That's  he  !"  "  That's  him  !"  "  That's  Henderson !" 
was  to  Margaret  in  some  degree  a  realization  of  her 
ambition ;  and  Carmen  declared  that  it  was  for  her 
a  sweet  thought  to  be  identified  with  Cleopatra. 

So  the  Catachoobee  University  had  its  splendid 
new  building — as  great  a  contrast  to  the  shanties 
from  which  its  pupils  came  as  is  the  Capitol  at 
Washington  to  the  huts  of  a  third  of  its  population. 
If  the  reader  is  curious  he  may  read  in  the  local 
newspapers  of  the  time  glowing  accounts  of  its  "  in 
augural  dedication ;"  but  universities  are  so  com 
mon  in  this  country  that  it  has  become  a  little 
wearisome  to  read  of  ceremonies  of  this  sort.  Mr. 


340  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

Henderson  made  a  modest  reply  to  the  barefaced 
eulogy  on  himself,  which  the  president  pronounced 
in  the  presence  of  six  hundred  young  men  and 
women  of  various  colors  and  invited  guests — a  eu 
logy  which  no  one  more  thoroughly  enjoyed  than 
Carmen.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  she  refused  to 
take  the  affair  seriously. 

"  I  felt  for  you,  Mr.  Henderson,"  she  said,  after 
the  exercises  were  over.  "  I  blushed  for  you.  1 
almost  felt  ashamed,  after  all  the  president  said, 
that  you  had  given  so  little." 

"  You  seem,  Miss  Eschelle,"  remarked  Mr.  Pon- 
sonby,  "  to  be  enthusiastic  about  the  education  and 
elevation  of  the  colored  people." 

"  Yes,  I  am  ;  I  quite  share  Mr.  Henderson's  feel 
ing  about  it.  I'm  for  the  elevation  of  everything." 

"  There  is  a  capital  chance  for  you,"  said  Hen 
derson  ;  "  the  university  wants  some  scholarships." 

"And  I've  half  a  mind  to  found  one — the  Eschelle 
Scholarship  of  Washing  and  Clear-starching.  You 
ought  to  have  seen  my  clothes  that  came  back  to 
the  car.  Probably  they  were  not  done  by  your 
students.  The  things  looked  as  if  they  had  been 
dragged  through  the  Cat-a-what-do-you-call-it  Riv 
er,  and  ironed  with  a  pine  chip." 

"  Could  you  do  them  any  better,  with  all  your 
cultivation  ?"  asked  Margaret. 

"  I  think  I  could,  if  I  was  obliged  to.  But  I 
couldn't  get  through  that  university,  with  all  its 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

ologies  and  laboratories  and  Greek  and  queer  bot 
tles  and  machines.  You  have  neglected  my  educa 
tion,  Mr.  Henderson." 

"  It  is  not  too  late  to  begin  now ;  you  might  see 
if  you  could  pass  the  examination  here.  It  is  part 
of  our  plan  gradually  to  elevate  the  Avhites,"  said 
Henderson. 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  and  did  you  see  that  some  of  the 
scholars  had  red  hair  and  blue  eyes,  quite  in  the 
present  style?  And  how  nice  the  girls  looked," 
she  rattled  on  ;  "  and  what  a  lot  of  intelligent 
faces,  and  how  they  kindled  up  when  the  president 
talked  about  the  children  of  Israel  in  the  wilder 
ness  forty  years,  and  Caesar  crossing  the  Rubicon ! 
And  you,  sir" — she  turned  to  the  Englishman — 
"I've  heard,  were  against  all  this  emancipation 
during  the  war." 

"  Bless  my  soul !"  exclaimed  Ponsonby,  "  we 
never  were  against  emancipation,  and  wanted  the 
best  side  to  win." 

"  You  had  a  mighty  queer  way  of  showing  it, 
then." 

"  Well,  honestly,  Miss  Eschelle,  do  you  think  the 
negroes  are  any  better  off  ?" 

"  You'd  better  ask  them.  My  opinion  is  that 
everybody  should  do  what  he  likes  in  this  world." 

"  Then  what  are  you  girding  Mr.  Henderson  for 
about  his  university  ?" 

"  Because  these  philanthropists,  like  Mr.  Hender- 


342  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

son  and  Uncle  Jerry  Hollowell,  are  all  building  on 
top  ;  putting  on  the  frosting  before  the  cake  rises." 

"  Haven't  you  found  out,  Mr.  Ponsonby,"  Mar 
garet  interrupted,  "that  if  there  were  eight  sides 
to  a  question,  Miss  Eschelle  would  be  on  every  one 
of  them?" 

"And  right,  too.  There  are  eight  sides  to  every 
question,  and  generally  more.  I  think  the  negro 
question  has  a  hundred.  But  there  is  only  one  side 
to  Henderson  Hall.  It  is  a  noble  institution.  I  like 
to  think  about  it,  and  Uncle  Csesar  Hollowell  cross 
ing  the  Eubicon  in  his  theological  seminary.  It  is 
all  so  beautiful !" 

"  You  are  a  bad  child,"  said  Margaret.  "  "We 
should  have  left  you  at  home." 

"  No,  not  bad,  dear ;  only  confused  with  such  a 
lot  of  good  deeds  in  a  naughty  world." 

That  this  junketing  party  was  deeply  interested 
in  the  cause  of  education  for  whites  or  blacks,  no 
one  would  have  gathered  from  the  conversation. 
Margaret  felt  that  Carmen  had  exactly  hit  the 
motives  of  this  sort  of  philanthropy,  and  she  was 
both  amused  and  provoked  by  the  girl's  mockery. 
By  force  of  old  habit  she  defended,  as  well  she 
might,  these  schools. 

"  You  must  have  a  high  standard,"  she  said. 
"  You  cannot  have  good  lower  schools  without 
good  higher  schools.  And  these  colleges,  which 
you  think  above  the  colored  people,  will  stimulate 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  343 

them  and  gradually  raise  the  whole  mass.  You 
cannot  do  anything  until  you  educate  teachers." 

"  So  I  have  always  heard,"  replied  the  incor 
rigible.  "  I  have  always  been  a  philanthropist 
about  the  negro  till  I  came  down  here,  and  I  in 
tend  to  be  again  when  I  go  back." 

Mrs.  Laflamme  was  not  a  very  eager  apostle  ei 
ther,  and  the  young  ladies  devoted  themselves  to 
the  picturesque  aspects  of  the  population,  without 
any  concern  for  the  moral  problems.  They  all 
declared  that  they  liked  the  negro.  But  Margaret 
was  not  to  be  moved  from  her  good-humor  by  any 
amount  of  badgering.  She  liked  Henderson  Hall ; 
she  was  proud  of  the  consideration  it  brought  her 
husband ;  she  had  a  comfortable  sense  of  doing 
something  that  was  demanded  by  her  opportunity. 
It  is  so  difficult  to  analyze  motives,  and  in  Mar 
garet's  case  so  hard  to  define  the  change  that  had 
taken  place  in  her.  That  her  heart  was  not  en 
listed  in  this  affair,  as  it  would  have  been  a  few 
years  before,  she  herself  knew.  Insensibly  she  had 
come  to  look  at  the  Avorld,  at  men  and  women, 
through  her  husband's  eyes,  to  take  the  worldly 
view,  which  is  not  inconsistent  with  much  good 
feeling  and  eas}^-going  charity.  She  also  felt  the 
necessity — a  necessity  totally  unknown  to  such  a 
nature  as  Carmen's — of  making  compensation,  of 
compounding  for  her  pleasures.  Gradually  she  was 
learning  to  play  her  husband's  game  in  life,  and  to 


344  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

see  no  harm  in  it.  What,  then,  is  this  thing  we  call 
conscience  ?  Is  it  made  of  India  rubber  ?  I  once 
knew  a  clever  Southern  woman,  who  said  that  New 
England  women  seemed  to  her  all  conscience — 
Southern  women  all  soul  and  impulse.  If  it  were 
possible  to  generalize  in  this  way,  we  might  say 
that  Carmen  had  neither  conscience  nor  soul,  sim 
ply  very  clever  reason.  Uncle  Jerry  had  no  more 
conscience  than  Carmen,  but  he  had  a  great  deal 
of  natural  affection.  Henderson,  with  an  abun 
dance  of  good-nature,  was  simply  a  man  of  his  time, 
troubled  with  no  scruples  that  stood  in  the  way  of 
his  success.  Margaret,  with  a  finer  nature  than 
either  of  them,  stifling  her  scruples  in  an  atmos 
phere  of  worldly-mindedness,  was  likely  to  go  fur 
ther  than  either  of  them.  Even  such  a  worldling 
as  Carmen  understood  this.  "  I  do  things,"  she  said 
to  Mrs.  Laflamme — she  made  anybody  her  confi 
dant  when  the  fit  was  on  her — UI  do  things  be 
cause  I  don't  care.  Mrs.  Henderson  does  the  same, 
but  she  does  care." 

Margaret  would  be  a  sadder  woman,  but  not  a 
better  woman,  when  the  time  came  that  she  did 
not  care.  She  had  come  to  the  point  of  accepting 
Henderson's  methods  of  overreaching  the  world, 
and  was  tempering  the  result  Avith  private  liber 
ality.  Those  were  hypocrites  who  criticised  him ; 
those  were  envious  who  disparaged  him ;  the  suf 
ficient  ethics  of  the  world  she  lived  in  was  to  be 


A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  345 

successful  and  be  agreeable.  And  it  is  difficult  to 
condemn  a  person  who  goes  with  the  general  opin 
ion  of  his  generation.  Carmen  was  under  no  illu 
sions  about  Henderson,  or  the  methods  and  man 
ners  of  which  she  was  a  part.  "  Why  pretend  ?" 
she  said.  "  "We  are  all  bad  together,  and  I  like  it. 
Uncle  Jerry  is  the  easiest  person  to  get  on  with." 
I  remember  a  delightful,  wicked  old  baroness  whom 
I  met  in  my  youth  stranded  in  Geneva  on  short  al 
lowance — European  resorts  are  full  of  such  charac 
ters.  "  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  why  shouldn't  I  re 
nege  ?  Why  shouldn't  men  cheat  at  cards  ?  It's 
all  in  the  game.  Don't  we  all  know  we  are  trying 
to  deceive  each  other  and  get  the  best  of  each  oth 
er  ?  I  stopped  pretending  after  Waterloo.  Fight 
ing  for  the  peace  of  Europe !  Bah  !  We  are  all 
fighting  for  what  we  can  get." 

So  the  Catachoobee  Henderson  Hall  was  dedi 
cated,  and  Mr.  Henderson  got  great  credit  out  of  it. 

"  It's  a  noble  deed,  Mr.  Henderson,"  Carmen  re 
marked,  when  they  were  at  dinner  on  the  car  the 
day  of  their  departure.  "  But "  —  in  an  aside  to 
her  host — "  I  advise  the  lambs  in  Wall  Street  to 
look  alive  at  your  next  deal." 


XX. 

• 

WE  can  get  used  to  anything.  Morgan  says  that 
even  the  New  England  summer  is  endurable  when 
you  learn  to  dress  warmly  enough.  We  come  to 
endure  pain  and  loss  with  equanimity ;  one  thing 
and  another  drops  out  of  our  lives — youth,  for  in 
stance,  and  sometimes  enthusiasm — and  still  we  go 
on  with  a  good  degree  of  enjoyment.  I  do  not  say 
that  Miss  Forsythe  was  quite  the  same,  or  that  a 
certain  zest  of  life  and  spring  had  not  gone  out  of 
the  little  Brandon  neighborhood. 

As  the  months  and  the  years  went  by  we  saw 
less  and  less  of  Margaret — less  and  less,  that  is,  in 
the  old  way.  Her  rare  visits  were  perfunctory, 
and  gave  little  satisfaction  to  any  of  us ;  not  that 
she  was  ungracious  or  unkindly,  but  simply  because 
the  things  we  valued  in  life  were  not  the  same. 
There  was  no  doubt  that  any  of  us  were  welcome 
at  the  Hendersons'  when  they  were  in  the  city, 
genuinely,  though  in  an  exterior  way,  but  gradually 
we  almost  ceased  to  keep  up  an  intercourse  which 
was  a  little  effort  on  both  sides.  Miss  Fors}^the 
came  back  from  her  infrequent  city  visits  weary 
and  sad. 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.          347 

Was  Margaret  content  ?  I  suppose  so.  She  was 
gay ;  she  was  admired ;  she  was  always  on  view  in 
that  semi-public  world  in  which  Henderson  moved  ; 
she  attained  a  newspaper  notoriety  which  many 
people  envied.  If  she  journeyed  anywhere,  if  she 
tarried  anywhere,  if  she  had  a  slight  illness,  the 
fact  was  a  matter  of  public  concern.  We  knew 
where  she  worshipped ;  we  knew  the  houses  she  fre 
quented,  the  charities  she  patronized,  the  fetes  she 
adorned,  every  new  costume  that  her  wearing  made 
the  fashion.  "Was  she  content  ?  She  could  perhaps 
express  no  desire  that  an  attempt  was  not  made  to 
gratify  it.  But  it  seems  impossible  to  get  enough 
things  —  enough  money,  enough  pleasure.  They 
had  a  magnificent  place  in  Newport ;  it  was  not 
large  enough ;  they  were  always  adding  to  it — a 
wing,  a  ball-room,  some  architectural  whim  or  an 
other.  Margaret  had  a  fancy  for  a  cottage  at  Bar 
Harbor,  but  they  rarely  went  there.  They  had  an 
interest  in  Tuxedo ;  they  belonged  to  an  exclusive 
club  on  Jekyl  Island.  They  passed  one  winter 
yachting  among  the  islands  in  the  eastern  Mediter 
ranean;  a  part  of  another  sailing  from  one  trop 
ical  paradise  to  another  in  the  West  Indies.  If 
there  was  anything  that  money  could  not  obtain,  it 
seemed  to  be  a  place  where  they  could  rest  in  serene 
peace  with  themselves. 

I  used  to  wonder  whether  Margaret  was  satisfied 
with  her  husband's  reputation.  Perhaps  she  mis- 


348  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

took  the  newspaper  homage,  the  notoriety,  for  pub 
lic  respect.  She  saw  his  influence .  and  his  power. 
She  saw  that  he  was  feared,  and  of  course  hated, 
by  some— the  unsuccessful — but  she  saw  the  terms 
he  was  on  with  his  intimates,  due  to  the  fact  that 
everybody  admitted  that  whatever  Henderson  was 
in  "  a  deal,"  privately  he  was  a  deuced  good  fellow. 

Was  this  an  ideal  married  life?  Henderson's  self 
ishness  was  fully  developed,  and  I  could  see  that  he 
was  growing  more  and  more  hard.  Would  Mar 
garet  not  have  felt  it,  if  she  also  had  not  been 
growing  hard,  and  accustomed  to  regard  the  world 
in  his  unbelieving  way  ?  No,  there  was  sharpness 
occasionally  between  them,  tiffs  and  disagreements. 
He  was  a  great  deal  away  from  home,  and  she 
plunged  into  a  life  of  her  own,  which  had  all  the 
external  signs  of  enjoyment.  I  doubt  if  he  was 
ever  very  selfish  where  she  was  concerned,  and 
love  can  forgive  almost  any  conduct  where  there 
is  personal  indulgence.  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the 
real  state  of  things  in  a  roundabout  way.  Hen 
derson  loved  his  wife  and  was  proud  of  her,  and 
he  was  not  unkind,  but  he  might  have  been  a  brute 
and  tied  her  up  to  the  bedpost,  and  she  never 
would  have  shown  by  the  least  sign  to  the  world 
that  she  was  not  the  most  happy  of  wives. 

When  the  Earl  of  Chisholm  was  in  this  country 
—it  was  four  years  after  Margaret's  marriage — we 
naturally  saw  a  great  deal  of  him.  The  young 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  349 

fellow  whom  we  liked  so  much  had  become  a  man, 
with  a  graver  demeanor,  and  I  thought  a  trace  of 
permanent  sadness  in  his  face  ;  perhaps  it  was  only 
the  responsibility  of  his  position,  or,  as  Morgan 
said,  the  modern  weight  that  must  press  upon  an 
earl  who  is  conscientious.  He  was  still  unmarried. 
The  friendship  between  him  and  Miss  Forsythe, 
which  had  been  kept  alive  by  occasional  corre 
spondence,  became  more  cordial  and  confidential. 
In  New  York  he  had  seen  much  of  Margaret,  not 
at  all  to  his  peace  of  mind  in  many  ways,  though 
the  generous  fellow  would  have  been  less  hurt  if  he 
had  not  estimated  at  its  real  value  the  life  she  was 
leading.  It  did  not  need  Margaret's  introduction 
for  the  earl  to  be  sought  for  by  the  novelty  and 
pleasure-loving  society  of  the  city ;  but  he  got,  as 
he  confessed,  small  satisfaction  out  of  the  whirl  of 
it,  although  we  knew  that  he  met  Mrs.  Henderson 
everywhere,  and  in  a  manner  assisted  in  her  social 
triumphs.  But  he  renewed  his  acquaintance  with 
Miss  Eschelle,  and  it  was  the  prattle  of  this  ingen 
uous  creature  that  made  him  more  heavy-hearted 
than  anything  else. 

"  How  nice  it  is  of  you,  Mr.  Lyon — may  I  call 
you  so,  to  bring  back  the  old  relations  ? — to  come 
here  and  revive  the  memory  of  the  dear  old  days 
when  we  were  all  innocent  and  happy !  Dear  me, 
I  used  to  think  I  could  patronize  that  little  coun 
try  girl  from  Brandon !  I  was  so  worldly — don't 


350  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

you  remember? — and  she  was  so  good.  And  now 
she  is  such  a  splendid  woman,  it  is  difficult  for  the 
rest  of  us  to  keep  pace  with  her.  The  nerve  she 
has,  and  the  things  she  will  do !  I  just  envy  her. 
I  sometimes  think  she  will  drive  me  into  a  con 
vent.  And  don't  you  think  she  is  more  beautiful 
than  ever  ?  Of  course  her  face  is  a  little  careworn, 
but  nobody  makes  up  as  she  does;  she  was  just  rav 
ishing  the  other  night.  Do  you  know  I  think  she 
takes  her  husband  too  seriously." 

"  I  trust  she  is  happy,"  the  earl  had  said. 

"Why  shouldn't  she  be?"  Carmen  asked  in  return. 
"  She  has  everything  she  wants.  They  both  have  a 
little  temper ;  life  would  be  flat  without  that ;  she 
is  a  little  irritable  sometimes ;  she  didn't  use  to  be ; 
and  when  they  don't  agree  they  let  each  other  alone 
for  a  little.  I  think  she  is  as  happy  as  anybody  can 
be  who  is  married.  Now  you  are  shocked !  Well,  I 
don't  know  any  one  who  is  more  in  love  than  she 
is,  and  that  may  be  happiness.  She  is  becoming  ex 
actly  like  Mr.  Henderson.  You  couldn't  ask  any 
thing  more  than  that." 

If  Margaret  were  really  happy,  the  earl  told 
Miss  Forsythe,  he  was  glad,  but  it  was  scarcely  the 
career  he  would  have  thought  would  have  suited 
her. 

Meantime,  the  great  house  was  approaching  com 
pletion.  Henderson's  palace,  in  the  upper  part  of 
the  city,  had  long  been  a  topic  for  the  correspond- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  351 

ents  of  the  country  press.  It  occupied  half  a 
square.  Many  critics  were  discontented  with  it 
because  it  did  not  occupy  the  whole  square. 
Everybody  was  interested  in  having  it  the  finest 
residence  on  the  continent.  Why  didn't  Hender 
son  take  the  whole  block  of  ground,  build  his 
palace  on  three  sides,  with  the  offices  and  stables 
on  the  fourth,  throw  a  glass  roof  over  the  vast  in 
terior  court,  plant  it  Avith  tropical  trees  and  plants, 
adorn  it  with  flower-beds  and  fountains,  and  make 
a  veritable  winter-garden,  giving  the  inhabitants  a 
temperate  climate  all  the  cold  months  ?  He  might 
easily  have  summer  in  the  centre  of  the  city  from 
November  to  April.  These  rich  people  never 
know  what  to  do  with  their  money.  Such  a  place 
would  give  distinction  to  the  city,  and  compel  for 
eigners  to  recognize  the  high  civilization  of  Amer 
ica.  A  great  deal  of  fault  was  found  with  Hen 
derson  privately  for  his  parsimony  in  such  a  splen 
did  opportunity. 

Nevertheless  it  was  already  one  of  the  sights  of 
the  town.  Strangers  were  taken  to  see  it,  as  it 
rose  in  its  simple  grandeur.  Local  reporters  made 
articles  on  the  progress  of  the  interior  whenever 
they  could  get  an  entrance.  It  was  not  ornate 
enough  to  please,  generally,  but  those  who  admired 
the  old  Louvre  liked  the  simplicity  of  its  lines  and 
the  dignity  of  the  elevations.  They  discovered 
the  domestic  note  in  its  quiet  character,  and  said 


352  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

that  the  architect  had  avoided  the  look  of  an  "  in 
stitution  "  in  such  a  great  mass.  He  was  not  afraid 
of  dignified  wall  space,  and  there  was  no  nervous 
anxiety  manifested,  which  would  have  belittled  it 
with  trivial  ornamentation. 

Perhaps  it  was  not  an  American  structure,  al 
though  one  could  find  in  it  all  the  rare  woods  and 
stones  of  the  continent.  Great  numbers  of  foreign 
workmen  were  employed  in  its  finishing  and  dec 
oration.  One  could  wander  in  it  from  Pompeii  to 
Japan,  from  India  to  Versailles,  from  Greece  to 
the  England  of  the  Tudors,  from  the  Alhambra  to 
colonial  Salem.  It  was  so  cosmopolitan  that  a 
representative  of  almost  any  nationality,  ancient 
or  modern,  could  have  been  suited  in  it  with  an 
apartment  to  his  taste,  and  if  the  interior  lacked 
unity  it  did  not  lack  a  display  of  variety  that 
appealed  to  the  imagination.  From  time  to  time 
paragraphs  appeared  in  English,  French,  and  Ital 
ian  journals,  regarding  the  work  of  this  and  that 
famous  artist  who  was  designing  a  set  of  furniture 
or  furnishing  the  drawings  of  a  room,  or  carving 
the  panelling  and  statuary,  or  painting  the  ceiling 
of  an  apartment  in  the  great  Palazzo  Henderson 
in  New  York — Washington.  The  United  Ameri 
can  Workers  (who  were  half  foreigners  by  birth) 
passed  resolutions  denouncing  Henderson  for  em 
ploying  foreign  pauper  labor,  and  organized  more 
than  one  strike  while  the  house  was  building.  It 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  353 

was  very  unpatriotic  and  un-American  to  have 
anything  done  that  could  not  be  done  by  a  mem 
ber  of  the  Union.  There  was  a  firm  of  excellent 
stone-cutters  which  offered  to  make  all  the  statu^ 
ary  needed  in  the  house,  and  set  it  up  in  good 
shape,  and  when  the  offer  was  declined,  it  memo 
rialized  Congress  for  protection. 

Although  Henderson  gave  what  time  he  could 
spare  to  the  design  and  erection  of  the  building,  it 
pleased  him  to  call  it  Margaret's  house,  and  to  see 
the  eagerness  with  which  she  entered  into  its  em 
bellishment.  There  was  something  humorous  in 
the  enlargement  of  her  ideas  since  the  days  when 
she  had  wondered  at  the  magnificence  of  the 
Washington  Square  home,  and  modestly  protested 
against  its  luxury.  Her  own  boudoir  was  a  cheap 
affair  compared  to  that  in  the  new  house. 

"  Don't  you  think,  dear,"  she  said,  puzzling  over 
the  drawings,  "  that  it  would  better  be  all  sandal- 
wood  ?  I  hate  mosaics.  It  looks  so  cheap  to  have 
little  bits  of  precious  woods  stuck  about." 

"  I  should  think  so.  But  what  do  you  do  with 
the  ebony  ?" 

"  Oh,  the  ebony  and  gold  ?  That  is  the  adjoin 
ing  sitting-room — such  a  pretty  contrast." 

"  And  the  teak?" 

"  It  has  such  a  beautiful  polish.     That  is  another 
room.     Carmen  says  that  will  be  our  sober  room, 
where  we  go  when  we  want  to  repent  of  things." 
23 


354  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

''  Well,  if  you  have  any  sandal- v,Tood  left  over, 
you  can  work  it  into  your  Boys'  Lodging-house,' 
you  know." 

"  Don't  be  foolish  !  And  then  the  ball-room, 
ninety  feet  long — it  looks  small  on  the  paper.  And 
do  you  think  we'd  better  have  those  life-size  figures 
all  round,  mediaeval  statues,  with  the  incandescents  ? 
Carmen  says  she  would  prefer  a  row  of  monks — 
something  piquant  about  that  in  a  ball-room.  I 
don't  know  that  I  like  the  figures,  after  all ;  they 
are  too  crushing  and  heavy." 

"  It  would  make  a  good  room  for  the  Common 
Council,"  Henderson  suggested. 

"  Wouldn't  it  be  prettier  hung  with  silken  arras 
figured  with  a  chain  of  dancing-girls  ?  Dear  me, 
I  don't  know  what  to  do.  Rodney,  you  must  put 
your  mind  on  it." 

"  Might  line  it  with  gold  plate.  I'll  make  arrange 
ments  so  that  you  can  draw  on  the  Bank  of  Eng 
land." 

Margaret  looked  hurt.  "  But  you  told  me,  dear, 
not  to  spare  anything — that  we  would  have  the 
finest  house  in  the  city.  I'm  sure  I  sha'n't  enjoy  it 
unless  you  want  it." 

"  Oh,  I  want  it,"  resumed  Henderson,  good-hu- 
moredly.  "  Go  ahead,  little  wife.  We  shall  pull 
through." 

"  Women  beat  me,"  Henderson  confessed  to 
Uncle  Jerry  next  day.  "  They  are  the  most  eco- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  355 

nomical  of  beings  and  the  most  extravagant.  I've 
got  to  look  round  for  an  extra  million  somewhere 
to-day." 

"  Yes,  there  is  this  good  thing  about  women," 
Uncle  Jerry  responded,  with  a  twinkle  in  his  eyes, 
"  they  share  your  riches  just  as  cheerfully  as  they 
do  your  poverty.  I  tell  Maria  that  if  I  had  the  ca 
pacity  for  making  money  that  she  has  for  spending 
it  I  could  assume  the  national  debt." 

To  have  the  finest  house  in  the  city,  or  rather,  in 
the  American  newspaper  phrase,  in  the  Western 
world,  was  a  comprehensible  ambition  for  Hender 
son,  for  it  was  a  visible  expression  of  his  wealth 
and  his  cultivated  taste.  But  why  Margaret  should 
wish  to  exchange  her  dainty  and  luxurious  home  in 
Washington  Square  for  the  care  of  a  vast  establish 
ment  big  enough  for  a  royal  court,  my  wife  could 
not  comprehend.  But  why  not  ?  To  be  the  visible 
leader  in  her  world,  to  be  able  to  dispense  a  hospi 
tality  which  should  surpass  anything  heretofore 
seen,  to  be  the  mistress  and  autocrat  of  an  army  of 
servants,  with  ample  room  for  their  evolution,  in  a 
palace  whose  dimensions  and  splendor  should  awak 
en  envy  and  astonishment — would  this  not  be  an 
attraction  to  a  woman  of  imagination  and  spirit  ? 

Besides,  they  had  outgrown  the  old  house.  There 
was  no  longer  room  for  the  display,  scarcely  for 
the  storage,  of  the  works  of  art,  the  pictures,  the 
curiosities,  the  books,  that  unlimited  money  and 


356  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

the  opportunity  of  foreign  travel  had  collected  in 
all  these  years.  "  We  must  either  build  or  send  our 
things  to  a  warehouse,"  Henderson  had  long  ago 
said.  Among  the  obligations  of  wealth  is  the  obli 
gation  of  display.  People  of  small  means  do  not 
allow  for  the  expansion  of  mind  that  goes  along 
with  the  accumulation  of  property.  It  was  only 
natural  that  Margaret,  who  might  have  been  con 
tented  with  two  rooms  and  a  lean-to  as  the  wife  of 
a  country  clergyman,  should  have  felt  cramped  in 
her  old  house,  which  once  seemed  a  world  too  large 
for  the  country  girl. 

"  I  don't  see  how  you  could  do  with  less  room," 
Carmen  said,  with  an  air  of  profound  conviction. 
They  were  looking  about  the  house  on  its  last  un 
inhabited  day,  directing  the  final  disposition  of  its 
contents.  For  Carmen,  as  well  as  for  Margaret,  the 
decoration  and  the  furnishing  of  the  house  had 
been  an  occupation.  The  girl  had  the  whim  of 
playing  the  part  of  restrainer  and  economizer  in 
everything ;  but  Henderson  used  to  say,  when  Mar 
garet  told  him  of  Carmen's  suggestions,  that  a  little 
more  of  her  economy  would  ruin  him. 

"  Yes,"  Margaret  admitted,  "  there  does  not  seem 
to  be  anything  that  is  not  necessary." 

"  Not  a  thing.  When  you  think  of  it,  two  people 
require  as  much  space  as  a  dozen ;  when  you  go  be 
yond  one  room,  you  must  go  on.  Of  course  you 
couldn't  get  on  without  a  reception-room,  drawing- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  357 

rooms,  a  conservatory,  a  music -room,  a  library,  a 
morning -room,  a  breakfast -room,  a  small  dining- 
room  and  a  state  dining-room,  Mr.  Henderson's 
snuggery,  with  his  own  library,  a  billiard-room,  a 
picture  -  gallery — it  is  full  already ;  you'll  have  to 
extend  it  or  sell  some  pictures— your  own  suite  and 
Mr.  Henderson's  suite,  and  the  guest-rooms,  and  I 
forgot  the  theatre  in  the  attic.  I  don't  see  but  you 
have  scrimped  to  the  last  degree." 

"  And  yet  there  is  room  to  move  about,"  Mar 
garet  acknowledged,  with  a  gratified  smile,  as  they 
wandered  around.  "  Dear  me,  I  used  to  think  the 
Stotts  house  was  a  palace." 

It  was  the  height  of  the  season  before  Lent. 
There  had  been  one  delay  and  another,  but  at  last 
all  the  workmen  'had  been  expelled,  and  Margaret 
was  mistress  of  her  house.  Cards  for  the  house- 
warming  had  been  out  for  two  weeks,  and  the 
event  was  near.  She  was  in  her  own  apartments 
this  pale,  wintry  afternoon,  putting  the  finishing 
touches  to  her  toilet.  Nothing  seemed  to  suit.  The 
maid  found  her  in  a  very  bad  humor.  "  Remem 
ber,"  she  had  said  to  her  husband,  when  he  ordered 
his  brougham  after  breakfast,  "  sharp  seven,  we  are 
to  dine  alone  the  first  time."  It  lacked  two  hours 
yet  of  dinner-time,  but  she  was  dressing  for  want 
of  other  occupation. 

Was  this  then  the  summit  of  her  ambition  ?  She 
had  indeed  looked  forward  to  some  such  moment 


358  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

as  this  as  one  of  exultation  in  the  satisfaction  of  all 
her  wishes.  She  took  up  a  book  of  apothegms  that 
lay  on  the  table,  and  opened  by  chance  to  this, "  Un 
happy  are  they  whose  desires  are  all  gratified."  It 
was  like  a  sting.  Were  her  desires  all  gratified  ? 
Why  should  she  think  at  this  moment  of  her  girl 
hood;  of  the  ideals  indulged  in  during  that  quiet 
time  ;  of  her  aunt's  cheerful,  tender,  lonely  life  ;  of 
her  rejection  of  Mr.  Lyon  ?  She  did  not  love  Mr. 
Lyon ;  she  was  not  satisfied  then.  How  narrow 
that  little  life  in  Brandon  had  been !  She  threw 
the  book  from  her.  She  hated  all  that  restraint 
and  censoriousness.  If  her  aunt  could  see  her  in 
all  this  splendor,  she  would  probably  be  sadder 
than  ever.  What  right  had  she  to  sit  there  and 
mourn — as  she  knew  her  aunt  did — and  sigh  over 
her  career?  What  right  had  they  to  sit  in  judg 
ment  on  her? 

She  went  out  from  her  room,  down  the  great 
stair-way,  into  the  spacious  house,  pausing  in  the 
great  hall  to  see  opening  vista  after  vista  in  the 
magnificent  apartments.  It  was  the  first  time  that 
she  had  alone  really  taken  the  full  meaning  of  it- 
had  possessed  it  with  the  eye.  It  was  hers.  Wher 
ever  she  went,  all  hers.  No,  she  had  desires  yet.  It 
should  be  filled  with  life — it  should  be  the  most 
brilliant  house  in  the  world.  Society  should  see, 
should  acknowledge  the  leadership.  Yes— as  she 
glanced  at  herself  in  a  drawing-room  mirror— they 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  359 

should  see  that  Henderson's  wife  was  capable  of  a 
success  equal  to  his  own,  and  she  would  stop  the 
hateful  gossip  about  him.  She  set  her  foot  firmly 
as  she  thought  about  it ;  she  would  crush  those 
people  who  had  sneered  at  them  as  parvenu.  She 
strayed  into  the  noble  gallery.  Some  face  there 
touched  her,  some  landscape  soothed  her.  No,  she 
said  to  herself,  I  will  win  them,  I  do  not  want  hate 
ful  strife. 

Who  knows  what  is  in  a  woman?  how  many 
moods  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  which  is  the 
characteristic  one?  Was  this  the  Margaret  who 
had  walked  with  Lyon  that  Sunday  afternoon  of 
the  baptism,  and  had  a  heart  full  of  pain  for  the 
pitiful  suffering  of  the  world  ? 

As  she  sat  there  she  grew  calmer.  Her  thoughts 
went  away  in  a  vision  of  all  the  social  possibilities 
of  this  wonderful  house.  From  vaguely  admiring 
what  she  looked  at,  she  began  to  be  critical ;  this 
and  that  could  be  changed  to  advantage ;  this  shade 
of  hanging  was  not  harmonious ;  this  light  did  not 
fall  right.  She  smiled  to  think  that  her  husband 
thought  it  all  done.  How  he  would  laugh  to  find 
that  she  was  already  planning  to  rearrange  it! 
Hadn't  she  been  satisfied  for  almost  twenty-four 
hours  ?  That  wras  a  long  time  for  a  woman.  Then 
she  thought  of  the  reception ;  of  the  guests ;  of 
what  some  of  them  would  wear ;  hoAV  they  wrould 
look  about ;  what  they  would  say.  She  was  already 


360  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

in  that  world  which  was  so. shining  and  shifting 
and  attractive.  She  did  not  hear  Henderson  come 
in  until  his  arm.  was  around  her. 

"  Well,  sweet,  keeping  house  alone  ?  I've  had  a 
jolly  day ;  lucky  as  old  Mr.  Luck." 

"  Have  you  ?"  she  cried,  springing  up.  "  I'm  so 
glad.  Come,  see  the  house." 

"  You  look  a  little  pale,"  he  said,  as  they  strolled 
out  to  the  conservatory  together. 

"Just  a  little  tired,"  she  admitted.  "Do  you 
know,  Rodney,  I  hated  this  house  at  five  o'clock— 
positively  hated  it  ?" 

"Why?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know ;  I  was  thinking.  But  I  liked 
it  at  half -past  six.  I  love  it  now.  I've  got  used 
to  it,  as  if  I  had  always  lived  here.  Isn't  it  beau 
tiful  everywhere  ?  But  I'm  going  to  make  some 
changes." 

"A  hanging  garden  on  the  roof?"  Henderson 
asked,  with  meekness. 

"That  would  be  nice.  No,  not  now.  But  to 
make  over  and  take  off  the  new  look.  Everything 
looks  so  new." 

"  Well,  we  will  try  to  live  that  down." 

And  so  they  wandered  on,  admiring,  bantering, 
planning.  Could  Etienne  Debree  have  seen  his 
descendant  at  this  moment  he  would  have  been 
more  than  ever  proud  of  his  share  in  establishing 
the  great  republic,  and  of  his  appreciation  of  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  361 

promise  of  its  beauty.  What  satisfies  a  woman's 
heart  is  luxury,  thought  Henderson,  in  an  admir 
ing,  cynical  moment. 

They  had  come  into  his  own  den  and  library, 
and  he  stood  looking  at  the  rows  of  his  favorite 
collection  shining  in  their  new  home.  For  all  its 
newness  it  had  a  familiar  look.  He  thought  for  a 
moment  that  he  might  be  in  his  old  bachelor  quar 
ters.  Suddenly  Margaret  made  a  rush  at  him. 
She  shook  the  great  fellow.  She  feasted  her  eyes 
on  him. 

"  What's  got  into  you  to  look  so  splendid  ?  Do 
you  hear,  go  this  instant  and  dress,  and  make  your 
self  ten  times  as  fascinating." 


XXI. 

LIVE  not  unto  yourselves !  Can  any  one  deny 
that  this  blessed  sentiment  is  extending  in  modern 
life  ?  Do  we  build  houses  for  ourselves  or  for  oth 
ers?  Do  we  make  great  entertainments  for  our 
own  comfort  ?  I  do  not  know  that  anybody  re 
garded  the  erection  of  the  Henderson  palace  as  an 
altruistic  performance.  The  socialistic  newspapers 
said  that  it  was  pure  ostentation.  But  had  it  not 
been  all  along  in  the  minds  of  the  builders  to  ask 
all  the  world  to  see  it,  to  share  the  delight  of  it  ( 
Is  this  a  selfish  spirit?  When  I  stroll  in  the  Park 
am  I  not  pleased  with  the  equipages,  with  the  dis 
play  of  elegance  upon  which  so  much  money  has 
been  lavished  for  my  enjoyment  ? 

All  the  world  was  asked  to  the  Henderson  re 
ception.  The  coming  event  was  the  talk  of  the 
town.  I  have  now  cuttings  from  the  great  jour 
nals,  articles  describing  the  house,  more  beautiful 
ly  written  than  Gibbon's  stately  periods  about  the 
luxury  of  later  Rome.  It  makes  one  smile  to  hear 
that  the  day  of  fine  writing  is  over.  Everybody 
was  eager  to  go ;  there  was  some  plotting  to  ob 
tain  invitations  by  those  who  felt  that  they  could 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  363 

not  afford  to  bo  omitted  from  the  list  that  would 
be  printed ;  by  those  who  did  not  know  the  Hen 
dersons,  and  did  not  care  to  know  them,  but 
who  shared  the  general  curiosity ;  and  everybody 
vowed  that  he  supposed  he  must  go,  but  he  hated 
such  a  crush  and  jam  as  it  was  sure  to  be.  Yet 
no  one  would  have  cared  to  go  if  it  had  not  prom 
ised  to  be  a  crush.  I  said  that  all  the  world  was 
asked,  which  is  our  way  of  saying  that  a  thousand 
or  two  had  been  carefully  selected  from  the  mill 
ion  within  reach.  Invitations  came  to  Brandon,  of 
course,  for  old  times'  sake.  The  Morgans  said  that 
they  preferred  a  private  view ;  Miss  Forsythe  de 
clared  that  she  hadn't  the  heart  to  go ;  in  short, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fairchild  alone  went  to  represent  the 
worldly  element. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  the  reader  must  go  to  the 
files  of  the  city  press  for  an  account  of  the  night's 
festivity.  The  pen  that  has  been  used  in  portray 
ing  Margaret's  career  is  entirely  inadequate  to  it. 
There  is  a  general  impression  that  an  American 
can  do  anything  that  he  sets  his  hand  to,  but  it  is 
not  true ;  it  is  true  only  that  he  tries  everything. 
The  reporter  is  born,  as  the  poet  is ;  it  cannot  be 
acquired — that  astonishing,  irresponsible  command 
of  the  English  language ;  that  warm,  lyrical  tone ; 
that  color,  and  bewildering  metaphorical  brill 
iancy  ;  that  picturesqueness ;  that  use  of  words  as 
the  painter  uses  pigments,  in  splashes  and  blotches 


364  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

which  are  so  effective ;  that  touch  of  raillery  and 
sarcasm  and  condescension ;  that  gay  enjoyment  of 
revelling  in  the  illimitable ;  that  air  of  superior 
knowledge  and  style ;  that  dash  of  sentiment ;  that 
calm  and  somewhat  haughty  judgment. 

I  am  always  impressed  at  such  an  entertainment 
with  the  good-humor  of  the  American  people,  no 
matter  what  may  be  the  annoyance  and  discom 
fort.  In  all  the  push  and  thrust  and  confusion, 
amid  the  rending  of  trains,  the  tearing  of  lace,  the 
general  crushing  of  costumes,  there  was  the  merri 
est  persiflage,  laughter,  and  chatter,  and  men  and 
women  entered  into  and  drew  out  of  the  fashion 
able  wreck  in  the  highest  spirits.  For  even  in 
such  a  spacious  mansion  there  were  spots  where 
currents  met,  and  rooms  where  there  was  a  fight 
for  mere  breath.  It  would  have  been  a  tame  affair 
without  this  struggle.  And  what  an  epitome  of 
life  it  all  was !  There  were  those  who  gave  them 
selves  up  to  admiration,  who  gushed  with  enthusi 
asm  ;  there  were  those  who  had  the  weary  air  of 
surfeit  with  splendor  of  this  sort ;  there  were  the 
bustling  and  volatile,  who  made  facetious  remarks, 
and  treated  the  affair  like  a  Fourth  of  July ;  and 
there  were  also  groups  dark  and  haughty,  like  the 
Stotts,  who  held  a  little  aloof,  and  coldly  admitted 
that  it  was  most  successful ;  it  lacked  je  ne  sais 
quoi,  but  it  was  in  much  better  taste  than  they 
had  expected.  Is  there  something  in  the  very 


A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  365 

nature  of  a  crowd  to  bring  out  the  inherent  vul 
garity  of  the  best-bred  people,  so  that  some  have 
doubted  whether  the  highest  civilization  will  tol 
erate  these  crushing  and  hilarious  assemblies  ? 

At  any  rate,  one  could  enjoy  the  general  effect. 
There  might  be  vulgar  units,  and  one  caught  notes 
of  talk  that  disenchanted,  but  there  Avere  so  many 
women  of  rare  and  stately  beauty,  of  exquisite  love 
liness,  of  charm  in  manner  and  figure  —  so  many 
men  of  fine  presence,  with  such  an  air  of  power 
and  manly  prosperity  and  self-reliance — I  doubt  if 
any  other  assembly  in  the  world,  un decorated  by 
orders  and  uniforms,  with  no  blazon  of  rank,  would 
have  a  greater  air  of  distinction.  Looking  over  it 
from  a  landing  in  the  great  stair-way  that  com 
manded  vistas  and  ranges  of  the  lofty,  brilliant 
apartments,  vivified  by  the  throng,  which  seemed 
ennobled  by  the  spacious  splendor  in  which  it 
moved,  one  would  be  pardoned  a  feeling  of  national 
pride  in  the  spectacle.  I  drew  aside  to  let  a  state 
ly  train  of  beauty  and  of  fashion  descend,  and  saw 
it  sweep  through  the  hall,  and  enter  the  drawing- 
rooms,  until  it  was  lost  in  a  sea  of  shifting  color. 
It  was  like  a  dream. 

And  the  centre  of  all  this  charming  plutocratic 
graciousness  and  beauty  was  Margaret — Margaret 
and  her  handsome  husband.  Where  did  the  New 
Hampshire  boy  learn  this  simple  dignity  of  bear 
ing,  this  good  -  humored  cordiality  without  conde- 


366  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

scension,  this  easy  air  of  the  man  of  the  world  ? 
Was  this  the  railway  wrecker,  the  insurance  ma 
nipulator,  the  familiar  of  Uncle  Jerry,  the  king  of 
the  lobby,  the  pride  and  the  bugaboo  of  Wall 
Street  ?  Margaret  was  regnant.  And  how  charm 
ingly  she  received  her  guests!  How  well  I  knew 
that  half -imperious  toss  of  the  head,  and  the  glance 
of  those  level,  large  gray  eyes,  softened  instantly, 
on  recognition,  into  the  sweetest  smile  of  welcome 
playing  about  the  dimple  and  the  expressive  mouth ! 
What  woman  would  not  feel  a  little  thrill  of  tri 
umph  ?  The  world  was  at  her  feet.  Why  Avas  it, 
I  wonder,  as  I  stood  there  watching  the  throng 
which  saluted  this  queenly  woman  of  the  world,  in 
an  hour  of  supreme  social  triumph,  while  the  notes 
of  the  distant  orchestra  came  softly  on  the  air,  and 
the  overpowering  perfume  of  banks  of  flowers  and 
tropical  plants — why  was  it  that  I  thought  of  a 
fair,  simple  girl,  stirred  with  noble  ideals,  eager 
for  the  intellectual  life,  tender,  sympathetic,  cou 
rageous?  It  was  Margaret  Debree — how  often  I 
had  seen  her  thus ! — sitting  on  her  little  veranda, 
swinging  her  chip  hat  by  the  string,  glowing  from 
some  errand  in  which  her  heart  had  played  a  much 
more  important  part  than  her  purse.  I  caught  the 
odor  of  the  honeysuckle  that  climbed  on  the  porch, 
and  I  heard  the  note  of  the  robin  that  nested 
there. 

"  You  seem  to  be  in  a  brown-study,"  said  Car- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  367 

men,  who  came  up,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  Earl 
of  Chisholm. 

"I'm  lost  in  admiration.  You  must  make  al 
lowance,  Miss  Eschelle,  for  a  person  from  the  coun 
try." 

'•Oh,  we  are  all  from  the  country.  That  is  the 
beauty  of  it.  There  is  Mr.  Hollowell,  used  to  drive 
a  peddler's  cart,  or  something  of  that  sort,  up  in 
Maine,  talking  with  Mr.  Stott,  whose  father  came 
in  on  the  towpath  of  the  Erie  Canal.  You  don't 
dance?  The  earl  has  just  been  giving  me  a  whirl 
in  the  ball-room,  and  I've  been  trying  to  make  him 
understand  about  democracy." 

"  Yes,"  the  earl  rejoined  ;  "  Miss  Eschelle  has 
been  interpreting  to  me  republican  simplicity." 

"And  he  cannot  point  out,  Mr.  Fairchild,  why 
this  is  not  as  good  as  a  reception  at  St.  James.  I 
suppose  it's  his  politeness." 

"  Indeed,  it  is  all  very  charming.  It  must  be  a 
great  thing  to  be  the  architect  of  your  own  fort 
une." 

"  Yes  ;  we  are  all  self-made,"  Carmen  confessed. 
"  I  am,  and  I  get  dreadfully  tired  of  it  sometimes. 
I  have  to  read  over  the  Declaration  and  look  at 
the  map  of  the  Western  country  at  such  times.  A 
body  has  to  have  something  to  Hold  on  to." 

"Why,  this  seems  pretty  substantial,"  I  said, 
wondering  what  the  girl  was  driving  at. 

"  Oh  yes ;  I  suppose  the  world  looks  solid  from 


368  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

a  balloon.  I  heard  one  man  say  to  another  just 
now,  '  How  long  do  you  suppose  Henderson  will 
last?'  Probably  we  shall  all  come  down  by  the 
run  together  by-and-by." 

"  You  seem  to  be  on  a  high  plane,"  I  suggested. 

"  I  guess  it's  the  influence  of  the  earl.  But  I  am 
the  most  misunderstood  of  women.  What  I  really 
like  is  simplicity.  Can  you  have  that  without  the 
social  traditions,"  she  appealed  to  the  earl,  "  such 
as  you  have  in  England  ?" 

"  I  really  cannot  say,"  the  earl  replied,  laughing. 
"  I  fancied  there  was  simplicity  in  Brandon ;  per 
haps  that  was  traditional." 

"  Oh,  Brandon !"  Carmen  cried,  "  see  what  Bran 
don  does  when  it  gets  a  chance.  I  assure  your  lord 
ship  that  we  used  to  be  very  simple  people  in  New 
York.  Come,  let  us  go  and  tell  Mrs.  Henderson 
how  delightful  it  all  is.  I'm  so  sorry  for  her." 

As  I  moved  about  afterwards  with  my  wife  we 
heard  not  many  comments,  a  word  here  and  there 
about  Henderson's  wonderful  success,  a  remark 
about  Margaret's  beauty,  some  sympathy  for  her 
in  such  a  wearisome  ordeal — the  world  is  full  of 
kindness — the  house  duly  admired,  and  the  ordina 
ry  compliments  paid ;  the  people  assembled  were, 
as  usual,  absorbed  in  their  own  affairs.  From  all 
we  could  gather,  all  those  present  were  used  to 
living  in  a  palace,  and  took  all  the  splendor  quite 
as  a  matter  of  course.  Was  there  no  envy  ?  Was 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  369 

there  nothing  said  about  the  airs  of  a  country 
school-ma'am,  the  aplomb  of  an  adventurer  ?  Were 
there  no  criticisms  afterwards  as  the  guests  rolled 
home  in  their  carriages,  surfeited  and  exhausted  ? 
What  would  you  have?  Do  you  expect  the  mil 
lennium  to  begin  in  New  York  ? 

The  newspapers  said  that  it  was  the  most  brill 
iant  affair  the  metropolis  had  ever  seen.  I  have 
no  doubt  it  was.  And  I  do  not  judge,  either,  by 
the  newspaper  estimates  of  the  expense.  I  take 
the  simple  words  addressed  by  the  earl  to  Mar 
garet,  when  he  said  good-night,  at  their  full  value. 
She  flushed  with  pleasure  at  his  modest  commen 
dation.  Perhaps  it  was  to  her  the  seal  of  her 
night's  triumph. 

The  house  was  opened.  The  world  had  seen  it. 
The  world  had  gone.  If  sleep  did  not  come  that 
night  to  her  tired  head  on  the  pillow,  what  won 
der?  She  had  a  position  in  the  great  world.  In 
imagination  it  opened  wider  and  wider.  Could 
not  the  infinite  possibilities  of  it  fill  the  hunger  of 
any  soul  ? 

The  echoes  of  the  Henderson  reception  con 
tinued  long  in  the  country  press.  Items  multi 
plied  as  to  the  cost.  It  was  said  that  the  sum  ex 
pended  in  flowers  alone,  which  withered  in  a  night, 
would  have  endowed  a  ward  in  a  charity  hospital. 
Some  wag  said  that  the  price  of  the  supper  would 
have  changed  the  result  of  the  Presidential  election. 


370  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

Views  of  the  mansion  were  given  in  the  illustrated 
papers,  and  portraits  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henderson. 
In  country  villages,  in  remote  farm-houses,  this 
great  social  event  was  talked  of,  Henderson's  wealth 
was  the  subject  of  conjecture,  Margaret's  toilet 
was  an  object  of  interest.  It  was  a  shining  exam 
ple  of  success.  Preachers,  whose  sensational  ser 
mons  are  as  widely  read  as  descriptions  of  great 
crimes,  moralized  on  Henderson's  career  and  Hen 
derson's  palace,  and  raised  up  everywhere  an  en 
vied  image  of  worldly  prosperity.  When  he  first 
arrived  in  New  York,  with  only  fifty  cents  in  his 
pocket — so  the  story  ran — and  walked  up  Broad 
way  and  Fifth  Avenue,  he  had  nearly  been  run 
over  at  the  corner  of  Twenty-sixth  Street  by  a  car 
riage,  the  occupants  of  which,  a  lady  and  gentle 
man,  had  stared  insolently  at  the  country  youth. 
Never  mind,  said  the  lad  to  himself,  the  day  will 
come  when  you  will  cringe  to  me.  And  the  day 
did  come- when  the  gentleman  begged  Henderson 
to  spare  him  in  "Wall  Street,  and  his  wife  intrigued 
for  an  invitation  to  Mrs.  Henderson's  ball.  The 
reader  knows  there  is  not  a  word  of  truth  in  this. 
Alas!  said  the  preacher,  if  he  had  only  devoted 
his  great  talents  to  the  service  of  the  Good  and 
the  True !  Behold  how  vain  are  all  the  triumphs 
of  this  world !  see  the  result  of  the  worship  of 
Mammon !  My  friends,  the  age  is  materialized,  r, 
spirit  of  worldliness  is  abroad ;  be  vigilant,  lest  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  '         371 

deceitfulness  of  riches  send  your  souls  to  perdition. 
And  the  plain  country  people  thanked  God  for 
such  a  warning,  and  the  country  girl  dreamed  of 
Margaret's  career,  and  the  country  boy  studied  the 
ways  of  Henderson's  success,  and  resolved  that  he, 
too,  would  seek  his  fortune  in  this  bad  metropolis. 
The  Hendersons  were  important  people.  It  was 
impossible  that  a  knowledge  of  their  importance 
should  not  have  a  reflex  influence  upon  Margaret. 
Could  it  be  otherwise  than  that  gradually  the  fine 
ness  of  her  discrimination  should  be  dulled  by  the 
almost  universal  public  consent  in  the  methods  by 
which  Henderson  had  achieved  his  position,  and 
that  in  time  she  should  come  to  regard  adverse 
judgment  as  the  result  of  envy  ?  Henderson  him 
self  was  under  less  illusion ;  the  world  was  about 
what  he  had  taken  it  for,  only  a  little  worse — 
more  gullible,  and  with  less  principle.  Carmen  had 
mocked  at  Margaret's  belief  in  Henderson.  It  is 
certainly  a  pitiful  outcome  that  Margaret,  with  her 
naturally  believing  nature,  should  in  the  end  have 
had  a  less  clear  perception  of  what  was  right  and 
wrong  than  Henderson  himself.  Yet  Henderson 
would  not  have  shrunk,  any  more  than  Carmen 
would,  from  any  course  necessary  to  his  ends, 
while  Margaret  would  have  shrunk  from  many 
things ;  but  in  absolute  worldliness,  in  devotion  to 
it,  the  time  had  come  when  Henderson  felt  that 
his  Puritan  wife  was  no  restraint  upon  him.  It 


372  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

was  this  that  broke  gentle  Miss  Forsythe's  heart 
when  she  came  fully  to  realize  it. 

I  said  that  the  world  was  at  Margaret's  feet. 
Was  it  ?  How  many  worlds  are  there,  and  does 
one  ever,  except  by  birth  (in  a  republic),  conquer 
them  all  ?  Truth  to  say,  there  were  penetralia  in 
New  York  society  concerning  which  this  success 
ful  woman  was  uneasy  in  her  heart.  There  were 
people  who  had  accepted  her  invitations,  to  whose 
houses  she  had  been,  who  had  a  dozen  ways  of  mak 
ing  her  feel  that  she  was  not  of  them.  These  peo 
ple — I  suppose  that  if  two  castaways  landed  naked 
on  a  desert  island,  one  of  them  would  instantly  be 
the  ancien  regime — had  spoken  of  Mrs.  Henderson 
and  her  ambition  to  the  Earl  of  Chisholm  in  a  way 
that  pained  him.  They  graciously  assumed  that 
he,  as  one  of  the  elect,  would  understand  them.  It 
was  therefore  with  a  heavy  heart  that  he  came  to 
say  good-bye  to  Margaret  before  his  return. 

I  cannot  imagine  anything  more  uncomfortable 
for  an  old  lover  than  a  meeting  of  this  sort ;  but 
I  suppose  the  honest  fellow  could  not  resist  the  in 
clination  to  see  Margaret  once  more.  I  dare  say 
she  had  a  little  flutter  of  pride  in  receiving  him, 
in  her  consciousness  of  the  change  in  herself  into 
a  wider  experience  of  the  world.  And  she  may 
have  been  a  little  chagrined  that  he  was  not  ap 
parently  more  impressed  by  her  surroundings,  nor 
noticed  the  change  in  herself,  but  met  her  upon  the 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  373 

ground  of  simple  sincerity  where  they  had  once 
stood.  What  he  tried  to  see,  what  she  felt  he  was 
trying  to  see,  was  not  the  beautiful  woman  about 
whose  charm  and  hospitality  the  town  talked,  but 
the  girl  he  had  loved  in  the  old  days. 

He  talked  a  little,  a  very  little,  about  himself  and 
his  work  in  England,  and  a  great  deal  about  what 
had  interested  him  here  on  his  second  visit,  the  so 
cial  drift,  the  politics,  the  organized  charities ;  and 
as  he  talked,  Margaret  was  conscious  how  little  the 
world  in  which  she  lived  seemed  to  interest  him ; 
how  little  importance  he  attached  to  it.  And  she 
saw,  as  in  a  momentary  vision  of  herself,  that  the 
things  that  once  absorbed  her  and  stirred  her  sym 
pathies  were  now  measurably  indifferent  to  her. 
Book  after  book  which  he  casually  mentioned,  as 
showing  the  drift  of  the  age,  and  profoundly  af 
fecting  modern  thought,  she  knew  only  by  name. 
u  I  guess,"  said  Carmen,  afterwards,  when  Margaret 
spoke  of  the  earl's  conversation, "  that  he  is  one  of 
those  who  are  trying  to  live  in  the  spirit — what  do 
they  call  it  ? — care  for  things  of  the  mind." 

"  You  are  doing  a  noble  work,"  he  said, "  in  your 
Palace  of  Industry." 

"  Yes,  it  is  very  well  managed,"  Margaret  replied ; 
"  but  it  is  uphill  work,  the  poor  are  so  ungrateful  for 
charity." 

"  Perhaps  nobody,  Mrs.  Henderson,  likes  to  be 
treated  as  an  object  of  charity." 


374  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

-'  Well,  work  isn't  what  they  want  when  we  give 
it,  and  they'd  rather  live  in  the  dirt  than  in  clean 
apartments." 

"  Many  of  them  don't  know  any  better,  and  a 
good  many  of  our  poor  resent  condescension." 

"  Yes,"  said  Margaret,  with  warmth  ;  "  they  are 
getting  to  demand  things  as  their  right,  and  they 
are  insolent.  The  last  time  I  drove  down  in  that 
quarter  I  was  insulted  by  their  manner.  What  are 
you  going  to  do  with  such  people  ?  One  big  fel 
low  who  was  leaning  against  a  lamp-post  growled, 
'  You'd  better  stay  in  your  own  palace,  miss,  and 
not  come  prying  round  here.'  And  a  brazen  girl 
cried  out :  '  Shut  yer  mouth,  Dick ;  the  lady's  got 
to  have  some  pleasure.  Don't  yer  see,  she's  a-slum- 
min'  ?' " 

"  It's  very  hard,  I  know,"  said  the  earl ;  "  perhaps 
we  are  all  on  the  wrong  track." 

"Maybe.  Mr.  Henderson  says  that  the  world 
would  get  on  better  if  everybody  minded  his  own 
business." 

"  I  wish  it  were  possible,"  the  earl  remarked,  with 
an  air  of  finishing  the  topic.  "  I  have  just  been  up 
to  Brandon,  Mrs.  Henderson.  I  fear  that  I  have 
seen  the  dear  place  for  the  last  time." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  you  are  tired  of  Amer 
ica?" 

"  Not  that.  I  shall  never,  even  in  thought,  tire 
of  Brandon." 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  375 

"  Yes,  they  are  dear,  good  people." 

"  I  thought  Miss  Forsythe — what  a  sweet,  brave 
woman  she  is ! — was  looking  sad  and  weary." 

"  Oh,  aunt  won't  do  anything,  or  take  an  inter 
est  in  anything.  She  just  stays  there.  I've  tried 
in  vain  to  get  her  here.  Do  you  know" — and  she 
turned  upon  the  earl  a  look  of  the  old  playfulness 
— "  she  doesn't  quite  approve  of  me." 

"Oh,"  he  replied,  hesitating  a  little— "I  think, 
Mrs.  Henderson,  that  her  heart  is  bound  up  in  you. 
It  isn't  for  me  to  say  that  you  haven't  a  truer 
friend  in  the  world." 

"  Yes,  I  know.  If  I'd  only  " — and  she  stopped, 
with  a  petulant  look  on  her  fair  face — "  well,  it 
doesn't  matter.  She  is  a  dear  soul." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  earl,  rising,  "  we  shall  see 
you  again  on  the  other  side  ?" 

"  Perhaps,"  with  a  smile.  Could  anything  be 
more  commonplace  than  such  a  parting?  Good 
bye,  I  shall  see  you  to-morrow  or  next  year,  or  in 
the  next  world.  Hail  and  farewell!  That  is  the 
common  experience.  But,  oh,  the  bitterness  of  it 
to  many  a  soul ! 

It  is  quite  possible  that  when  the  Earl  of  Chis- 
holm  said  good-bye,  with  an  air  of  finality,  Mar 
garet  felt  that  another  part  of  her  life  was  closed. 
He  was  not  in  any  way  an  extraordinary  person, 
he  was  not  a  very  rich  peer,  probably  wTith  his 
modesty  and  conscientiousness,  and  devotion  to  the 


376  A  Little  Journey  in  ike  World. 

ordinary  duties  of  his  station,  he  would  never  at 
tain  high  rank  in  the  government.  Yet  no  one 
could  be  long  with  him  without  apprehending  that 
his  life  was  on  a  high  plane.  It  Avas  with  a  little 
irritation  that  Margaret  recognized  this,  and  re 
membered,  with  a  twinge  of  conscience,  that  it  was 
upon  that  plane  that  her  life  once  travelled.  The 
time  had  been  when  the  more  important  thing  to 
her  was  the  world  of  ideas,  of  books,  of  intellect 
ual  life,  of  passionate  sympathy  with  the  fortunes 
of  humanity,  of  deepest  interest  in  all  the  new 
thoughts  struck  out  by  the  leaders  who  studied 
the  profound  problems  of  life  and  destiny. 

That  peace  of  mind  which  is  found  only  in  the 
highest  activity  for  the  noblest  ends  she  once  had, 
though  she  thought  it  then  unrest  and  striving — 
what  Carmen,  who  was  under  no  illusions  about 
Henderson,  or  Uncle  Jerry,  or  the  world  of  fash 
ion,  and  had  an  intuitive  perception  of  cant  that  is 
sometimes  denied  to  the  children  of  light,  called 
"  taking  pleasure  in  the  things  of  the  mind."  To 
do  Margaret  justice,  there  entered  into  her  reflec 
tions  no  thought  of  the  title  and  position  of  the 
Earl  of  Chisholm.  They  had  never  been  alluring 
to  her.  If  one  could  take  any  satisfaction  in  this 
phase  of  her  character,  her  worldliness  was  purety 
American. 

"  I  hardly  know  which  I  should  prefer,"  Carmen 
was  saying  when  they  were  talking  over  the  ball 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  377 

and  the  earl's  departure,  "to  be  an  English  count 
ess  or  the  wife  of  an  American  millionaire." 

"  It  might  depend  upon  the  man,"  replied  Mar 
garet,  with  a  smile. 

"  The  American,"  continued  Carmen,  not  heed 
ing  this  suggestion,  "  has  the  greater  opportunities, 
and  is  not  hindered  by  traditions.  If  you  were  a 
countess  you  would  have  to  act  like  a  countess.  If 
you  are  an  American  you  can  act — like  anything — 
you  can  do  what  you  please.  That  is  nicer.  Now, 
an  earl  must  do  what  an  earl  has  always  done. 
What  could  you  do  with  such  a  husband?  Mind ! 
Yes,  I  know,  dear,  about  things  of  the  mind.  First, 
you  know,  he  will  be  a  gentleman  socialist  (in  the 
magazines),  and  maybe  a  Christian  socialist,  or  a 
Christian  scientist,  or  something  of  that  sort,  inter 
ested  in  the  Mind  Cure." 

"  I  should  think  that  would  suit  you.  Last  I 
knew,  you  were  deep  in  the  Mind  Cure." 

"  So  I  was.  That  was  last  week.  Now  I'm  in 
the  Faith  Cure ;  I've  found  out  about  both.  The 
difference  is,  in  the  Mind  Cure  you  don't  require 
any  faith ;  in  the  Faith  Cure  you  don't  require 
any  mind.  The  Faith  Cure  just  suits  me." 

"  So  you  put  }Tour  faith  in  an  American  million 
aire?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  I  should,  until  an  American  mill 
ionaire  put  faith  in  me.  That  might  shake  me. 
It  is  such  a  queer  world.  No,  I'm  in  doubt.  If 


378  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

you  loved  an  earl  he  would  stay  an  earl.  If  you 
loved  an  American  millionaire,  ten  to  one  he  would 
fail." 

Margaret  did  not  escape  the  responsibility  of 
her  success.  Who  does  ?  My  dear  Charmian,  who 
wrote  the  successful  novel  of  last  year,  do  you  not 
already  repent  your  rash  act  ?  If  you  do  not  write 
a  better  novel  this  year,  will  not  the  public  flout 
you  and  jeer  you  for  a  pretender  ?  Did  the  public 
overpraise  you  at  first?  Its  mistaken  partiality 
becomes  now  your  presumption.  Last  year  the 
press  said  you  were  the  rival  of  Hawthorne.  This 
year  it  is,  "  that  Miss  Charmian  who  set  herself  up 
as  a  second  Hawthorne."  When  the  new  house 
was  opened,  it  might  be  said  that  socially  Mrs. 
Henderson  had  "  arrived."  Had  she  ?  When  one 
enters  on  the  path  of  worldliness  is  there  any  rest 
ing-place?  Is  not  eternal  vigilance  the  price  of 
position  ? 

Henderson  was  apparently  on  good  terms  with 
the  world.  Many  envied  him,  many  paid  him  the 
sincerest  flattery,  that  of  imitation.  He  was  a  king 
in  the  street,  great  enterprises  sought  his  aid,  all 
the  charities  knocked  at  his  door,  his  word  could 
organize  a  syndicate  or  a  trust,  his  nod  could 
smash  a  "  corner."  There  were  fabulous  stories 
about  his  wealth,  about  his  luck.  This  also  was 
Margaret's  world.  Her  ambition  expanded  in  it 
with  his.  The  things  he  sat  his  heart  on  she  cov- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  379 

eted.  Alas  !  there  is  always  another  round  to  the 
ladder. 

Seeing  the  means  by  which  he  gained  his  ends, 
and  the  public  condonation  of  them,  would  not  his 
cynicism  harden  into  utter  unbelief  in  general  virt 
ue  and  goodness  ?  I  don't  know  that  Henderson 
changed  much,  accented  as  his  grasping  selfishness 
was  on  occasion  ;  prosperity  had  not  impaired  that 
indifferent  good-fellowship  and  toleration  which 
had  early  gained  him  popularity.  His  presence 
was  nowhere  a  rebuke  to  whatever  was  going 
on.  He  was  always  accessible,  often  jocular.  The 
younger  members  in  the  club  said  Henderson  was 
a  devilish  good  fellow,  whatever  people  said.  The 
President  of  the  United  States  used  to  send  for 
him  and  consult  him,  because  he  wanted  no  office ; 
he  knew  men,  and  it  was  a  relief  to  talk  with  a  lib 
eral  rich  man  of  so  much  bonhomie  who  wanted 
nothing. 

And  Margaret,  what  view  of  the  world  did  all 
this  give  her  ?  Did  she  come  in  contact  with  any 
one  who  had  not  his  price,  who  was  not  going  or 
wanting  to  go  in  the  general  current?  Was  it 
not  natural  that  she  should  take  Henderson's  view  ? 
Dear  me,  I  am  not  preaching  about  her.  We  did 
not  see  much  of  her  in  those  days,  and  for  one  or 
two  years  of  what  I  suppose  was  her  greatest  en 
joyment  of  her  social  triumphs.  So  far  as  we  heard, 
she  was  liked,  admired,  folloAved,  envied.  It  could 


380  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

not  be  otherwise,  for  she  did  not  lose  her  beauty 
nor  her  charm,  and  she  tried  to  please.  Once  when 
I  saw  her  in  the  city  and  we  fell  into  talk — and  the 
talk  was  gay  enough  and  unconstrained  —  I  was 
struck  with  a  certain  hardness  of  tone,  a  little  bit 
terness  quite  unlike  her  old  self.  It  is  a  very  hard 
thing  to  say,  and  I  did  not  say  it  even  to  my  wife, 
but  I  had  a  painful  impression  that  she  was  valuing 
people  by  the  money  they  had,  by  the  social  posi 
tion  they  had  attained. 

Was  she  content  in  that  great  world  in  which 
she  moved  ?  I  had  heard  stories  of  slights,  of  stabs, 
of  rebuffSj  of  spiteful  remarks.  Had  she  not  come 
to  know  how  success  even  in  social  life  is  sometimes 
attained — the  meannesses,  the  jealousies,  the  cring 
ing?  Even  with  all  her  money  at  command,  did 
she  not  know  that  her  position  was  at  the  price  of  in 
cessant  effort  ?  Because  she  had  taken  a  bold  step 
to-day,  she  must  take  a  bolder  one  to-morrow — 
more  display,  more  servants,  some  new  invention 
of  luxury  and  extravagance.  And  seeing,  as  I  say, 
the  inside  of  this  life  and  what  it  required,  and 
how  triumphs  and  notoriety  were  gained,  was  it  a 
wonder  that  she  gradually  became  in  her  gayety 
cynical,  in  her  judgments  bitter  ? 

I  am  not  criticising  her.  "What  are  we,  who 
have  had  no  opportunities,  to  sit  in  judgment  on 
her!  I  believe  that  it  is  true  that  it  was  at  her 
solicitation  that  Henderson  at  last  did  endow  a 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  381 

university  in  the  South-west.  I  know  that  her  name 
was  on  all  the  leading  charities  of  the  city.  I  know 
that  of  all  the  patronesses  of  the  charity  ball  her 
costume  w^as  the  most  exquisite,  and  her  liberal 
ity  was  most  spoken  of.  I  know  that  in  the  most 
fashionable  house  of  worship  (the  newspapers  call 
it  that)  she  was  a  constant  attendant ;  that  in  her 
modest  garb  she  never  missed  a  Lenten  service ; 
and  wTe  heard  that  she  performed  a  novena  during 
this  penitential  season. 

Why  protract  the  story  of  how  Margaret  was 
lost  to  us  ?  Could  this  interest  any  but  us — we  who 
felt  the  loss  because  we  still  loved  her  ?  And  why 
should  we  presume  to  set  up  our  standard  of  what 
is  valuable  in  life,  of  what  is  a  successful  career? 
She  had  not  become  what  AVO  hoped,  and  little  by 
little  all  the  pleasure  of  intercourse  on  both  sides,  I 
dare  say,  disappeared.  Could  we  say  that  life,  after 
all,  had  not  given  her  what  she  most  desired  ?  Rath 
er  than  write  on  in  this  strain  about  her,  I  would 
like  to  read  her  story  as  it  appeared  to  the  com 
panions  whose  pleasures  were  her  pleasures,  whose 
successes  were  her  successes — her  story  written  by 
one  who  appreciated  her  worldly  advantages,  and 
saw  all  the  delight  there  was  in  this  attractive 
worldliness. 

What  comfort  there  was  in  it  we  had  in  knowing 
that  she  was  a  favorite  in  the  society  of  which  we 
read  such  glowing  descriptions,  and  that  no  one 


382  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

else  bore  its  honors  more  winningly.  It  was  not 
an  easy  life,  with  all  its  exactions  and  incessant 
movement.  It  demanded  more  physical  strength 
than  most  women  possess,  and  we  were  not  sur 
prised  to  hear  from  time  to  time  that  she  was  deli 
cate,  and  that  she  went  through  her  season  with 
feverish  excitement.  But  she  chose  it ;  it  had  be 
come  necessary  to  her.  Can  women  stop  in  such 
a  career,  even  if  they  wish  to  stop  ? 

Yes,  she  chose  it.  I,  for  one,  never  grudged  her 
any  pleasure  she  had  in  life,  and  I  do  not  know  but 
she  was  as  happy  as  it  is  possible  for  human  being 
to  be  in  a  full  experiment  of  worldliness.  Who 
is  the  judge  ?  But  we,  I  say,  who  loved  her,  and 
knew  so  well  the  noble  possibilities  of  her  royal 
nature  under  circumstances  favorable  to  its  devel 
opment,  felt  more  and  more  her  departure  from 
her  own  ideals.  Her  life  in  its  spreading  prosper 
ity  seemed  more  and  more  shallow.  I  do  not  say 
she  was  heartless,  I  do  not  say  she  was  uncharita 
ble,  I  do  not  say  that  in  all  the  externals  of  world 
ly  and  religious  observance  she  was  wanting ;  I  do 
not  say  that  the  more  she  was  assimilated  to  the 
serenely  worldly  nature  of  her  husband  she  did  not 
love  him,  or  that  she  was  unlovely  in  the  worldli 
ness  that  ingulfed  her  and  bore  her  onward.  I  do 
not  know  that  there  is  anything  singular  in  her 
history.  But  the  pain  of  it  to  us  was  in  the  cer 
tainty — and  it  seemed  so  near — that  in  the  decay 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  383 

of  her  higher  life,  in  the  hardening  process  of  a 
material  existence,  in  the  transfer  of  all  her  inter 
ests  to  the  trivial  and  sensuous  gratifications — time, 
mind,  heart,  ambition,  all  fixed  on  them — we  should 
never  regain  our  Margaret.  What  I  saw  in  a  vision 
of  her  future  was  a  dead  soul — a  beautiful  woman 
in  all  the  success  of  envied  prosperity,  with  a  dead 
soul. 


XXII. 

IT  is  difficult  not  to  convey  a  false  impression  of 
Margaret  at  this  time.  Habits,  manners,  outward 
conduct — nay,  the  superficial  kindliness  in  human 
intercourse,  the  exterior  graceful  qualities,  may  all 
remain  when  the  character  has  subtly  changed, 
•when  the  real  aims  have  changed,  when  the  ideals 
are  lowered.  The  fair  exterior  may  be  only  a  shell. 
I  can  imagine  the  heart  retaining  much  tender 
ness  and  sympathy  with  suffering  when  the  soul 
itself  has  ceased  to  struggle  for  the  higher  life, 
when  the  mind  has  lost,  in  regard  to  life,  the  final 
discrimination  of  what  is  right  and  wrong. 

Perhaps  it  is  fairer  to  Margaret  to  consider  the 
general  opinion  of  the  world  regarding  her.  No 
doubt,  if  we  had  now  known  her  for  the  first  time, 
we  should  have  admired  her  exceedingly,  and  prob 
ably  have  accounted  her  thrice  happy  in  filling  so 
well  her  brilliant  position.  That  her  loss  of  inter 
est  in  things  intellectual,  in  a  wide  range  of  topics 
of  human  welfare,  which  is  in  the  individual  soul  a 
sign  of  warmth  and  growth,  made  her  less  compan 
ionable  to  some  is  true,  but  her  very  absorption  in 
the  life  of  her  world  made  her  much  more  attract- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  385 

ive  to  others.  I  well  remember  a  dinner  one  day 
at  the  Hendersons',  when  Mr.  Morgan  and  I  hap 
pened  to  be  in  town,  and  the  gay  chat  and  persiflage 
of  the  society  people  there  assembled.  Margaret 
shone  in  it.  The  light  and  daring  touch  of  her 
raillery  Carmen  herself  might  have  envied,  and  the 
spirit  in  which  she  handled  the  trifles  and  personal 
gossip  tossed  to  the  surface,  like  the  bubbles  on  the 
champagne. 

It  was  such  a  pretty  picture — the  noble  dining- 
room,  the  table  sparkling  with  glass  and  silver  and 
glowing  with  masses  of  choicest  flowers  from  the 
conservatory,  the  animated  convives,  and  Margaret 
presiding,  radiant  in  a  costume  of  white  and  gold. 

"  After  all,"  Morgan  was  saying,  apropos  of  the 
position  of  women,  "  men  get  mighty  little  out  of 
it  in  the  modern  arrangement." 

"I've  always  said,  Mr.  Morgan,"  Margaret  re 
torted,  "  that  you  came  into  the  world  a  couple  of 
centuries  too  late ;  you  ought  to  have  been  here  in 
the  squaw  age." 

"  Well,  men  were  of  some  account  then.  I  ap 
peal  to  Henderson,"  Morgan  persisted,  "  if  he  gets 
more  than  his  board  and  clothes." 

"  Oh,  my  husband  has  to  make  his  way ;  he's  no 
time  for  idling  and  philosophizing  round." 

"  I  should  think  not.  Come,  Henderson,  speak 
up ;  what  do  you  get  out  of  it  ?" 

"  Oh,"  said  Henderson,  glancing  at  his  wife  with 
25 


386  A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

an  amused  expression,  "  I'm  doing  very  well.  Tm 
very  well  taken  care  of,  but  I  often  wonder  what 
the  fellows  did  when  polygamy  was  the  fashion." 

"  Polygamy,  indeed !"  cried  Margaret.  "  So  men 
only  dropped  the  e pluribus  unum  methoi  on  ac 
count  of  the  expense  ?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  replied  Henderson.  "  Women  are 
so  much  better  now  tlian  formerly  that  one  wife  is 
quite  enough." 

"  You  have  got  him  well  in  hand,  Mrs.  Hender 
son,  but —  "  Morgan  began. 

"But,"  continued  Margaret  for  him,  "you  think 
as  things  are  going  that  polyandry  will  have  to 
come  in  fashion — a  woman  will  need  more  than  one 
husband  to  support  her  ?" 

"  And  I  was  born  too  soon,"  murmured  Carmen. 

"Yes,  dear,  you'll  have  to  be  born  again.  But, 
Mr.  Morgan,  you  don't  seem  to  understand  what 
civilization  is." 

"  I'm  beginning  to.  I've  been  thinking — this  is 
entirely  impersonal  —  that  it  costs  more  to  keep 
one  fine  lady  going  than  it  does  a  college.  Just 
reckon  it  up.  (Margaret  was  watching  him  with 
sparkling  eyes.)  The  palace  in  town  is  for  her,  the 
house  in  the  mountains,  the  house  by  the  sea,  are 
for  her,  the  army  of  servants  is  for  her,  the  horses 
and  carriages  for  all  weathers  are  for  her,  the  opera 
box  is  for  her,  and  then  the  wardrobe — why,  half 
Paris  lives  on  what  women  wear.  I  say  nothing 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  387 

of  what  would  become  of  the  medical  profession 
but  for  her." 

"  Have  you  done  ?''  asked  Margaret. 

"  No,  but  I'm  taking  breath." 

"Well,  why  shouldn't  we  support  the  worklng- 
ing-people  of  Paris  and  elsewhere  ?  Do  you  want 
us  to  make  our  own  clothes  and  starve  the  sewing- 
wromen  ?  Suppose  there  weren't  any  balls  and  fine 
dresses  and  what  you  call  luxuiy.  What  would 
the  poor  do  without  the  rich  ?  Isn't  it  the  highest 
charity  to  give  them  work  ?  Even  with  it  they  are 
ungrateful  enough." 

"  That  is  too  deep  for  me,"  said  Morgan,  evasive 
ly.  "  I  suppose  they  ought  to  be  contented  to  see 
us  enjoying  ourselves.  It's  all  in  the  way  of  civili 
zation,  I  dare  say." 

"  It's  just  as  I  thought,"  said  Margaret,  more 
lightly.  "  You  haven't  an  inkling  of  what  civiliza 
tion  is.  See  that  flower  before  you.  It  is  the 
most  exquisite  thing  in  this  room.  See  the  refine 
ment  of  its  color  and  form.  That  was  cultivated. 
The  plant  came  from  South  America.  I  don't  know 
what  expense  the  gardener  has  been  to  about  it, 
what  material  and  care  have  been  necessary  to 
bring  it  to  perfection.  You  may  take  it  to  Mrs. 
Morgan  as  an  object-lesson.  It  is  a  thing  of  beau 
ty.  You  cannot  put  any  of  your  mercantile  value 
on  it.  Well,  that  is  woman,  the  consummate  flow 
er  of  civilization.  That  is  what  civilization  is  for." 


388  A.  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  old  fellow,"  said  Henderson. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  myself,"  Carmen  said,  demurely. 

"  I  admit  all  that,"  Morgan  replied.  "  Take  Mr. 
Henderson  as  a  gardener,  then." 

"  Suppose  you  take  somebody  else,  and  let  my 
husband  eat  his  dinner." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  preaching ;  I've  got  used  to 
being  made  to  point  a  moral." 

"  But  he  will  go  on  next  about  the  luxury  of  the 
age,  and  the  extravagance  of  women,  and  goodness 
knows  what,"  said  Margaret. 

"  Ko,  I'm  talking  about  men,"  Morgan  continued. 
"  Consider  Henderson — it's  entirely  impersonal — as 
a  gardener.  "What  does  he  get  out  of  his  occupa 
tion?  He  can  look  at  the  flower.  Perhaps  that 
is  enough.  He  gets  a  good  dinner  when  he  has 
time  for  it,  an  hour  at  his  club  now  and  then,  oc 
casionally  an  evening  or  half  a  day  off  at  home,  a 
decent  wardrobe — 

"  Fifty-two  suits,"  interposed  Margaret. 

"  — His  own  brougham — 

"  And  a  four-in-hand,"  added  Margaret. 

"  — A  pass  on  the  elevated  road— 

"  And  a  steam-yacht." 

"  "Which  he  never  gets  time  to  sail  in ;  practically 
all  the  time  on  the  road,  or  besieged  by  a  throng 
in  his  office,  hustled  about  from  morning  till  night, 
begged  of,  interviewed,  a  telegraphic  despatch  ev 
ery  five  minutes,  and— 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  389 

"  And  me !"  cried  Margaret,  rising.  The  guests 
all  clapped  their  hands. 

The  Hendersons  liked  to  have  their  house  full, 
something  going  on  —  dinners,  musicals,  readings, 
little  comedies  in  the  theatre ;  there  was  continual 
coming  and  going,  calling,  dropping  in  for  a  cup  of 
tea,  late  suppers  after  the  opera ;  the  young  fellows 
of  town  found  no  place  so  agreeable  for  a  half-hour 
after  business  as  Mrs.  Henderson's  reception-room. 
I  fancied  that  life  would  be  dull  and  hang  heav 
ily,  especially  for  Margaret,  without  this  perpetual 
movement  and  excitement.  Henderson,  who  cer 
tainly  had  excitement  enough  without  seeking  it 
at  home,  was  pleased  that  his  wife  should  be  a 
leader  in  society,  as  he  was  in  the  great  enterprises 
in  which  his  fortune  waxed  to  enormous  propor 
tions.  About  what  we  call  the  home  life  I  do  not 
know.  Necessarily,  as  heretofore,  Henderson  was 
often  absent,  and  whether  Margaret  accompanied 
him  or  not,  a  certain  pace  of  life  had  to  be  kept 
up. 

I  suppose  there  is  no  delusion  more  general  than 
that  of  retiring  upon  a  fortune — as  if,  when  gained, 
a  fortune  would  let  a  person  retire,  or,  still  more 
improbable,  as  if  it  ever  were  really  attained.  It 
is  not  at  all  probable  that  Henderson  had  set  any 
limit  to  that  he  desired ;  the  wildest  speculations 
about  its  amount  would  no  doubt  fall  short  of  sat 
isfying  the  love  of  power  which  he  expected  to 


390  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

gratify  in  immeasurably  increasing  it.  Does  not 
history  teach  us  that  to  be  a  great  general,  or  poet, 
or  philanthropist,  is  not  more  certain  to  preserve 
one's  name  than  to  be  the  richest  man,  the  Croesus, 
in  his  age?  I  could  imagine  Margaret  having  a 
certain  growing  pride  in  this  distinction,  and  a 
glowing  ambition  to  be  socially  what  her  husband 
was  financially. 

Heaven  often  plans  more  mercifully  for  us  than 
we  plan  for  ourselves.  Had  not  the  Hebrew 
prophets  a  vision  of  the  punishment  by  prosperity? 
Perhaps  it  applied  to  an  old  age,  gratified  to  the 
end  by  possession  of  everything  that  selfishness 
covets,  and  hardened  into  absolute  worldliness.  .  I 
knew  once  an  old  lady  whose  position  and  wealth 
had  always  made  her  envied,  and  presumably 
happy,  who  was  absolutely  to  be  pitied  for  a  soul 
empty  of  all  noble  feeling. 

The  sun  still  shone  on  Margaret,  and  life  yielded 
to  her  its  specious  sweets.  She  was  still  young. 
If  in  her  great  house,  in  her  dazzling  career,  in  the 
whirl  of  resplendent  prosperity,  she  had  hours  of 
unsatisfied  yearning  for  something  unattainable  in 
this  direction,  the  world  would  not  have  guessed 
it.  Whenever  we  heard  of  her  she  was  the  centre 
and  star  of  whatever  for  the  moment  excited  the 
world  of  fashion.  It  was  indeed,  at  last,  in  the 
zenith  of  her  gay  existence  that  I  became  aware  of 
a  certain  feminine  anxiety  about  her  in  our  neigh- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  391 

borhood.  She  had  been,  years  before,  very  ill  in 
Paris,  and  the  apprehensions  for  her  safety  now 
were  based  upon  the  recollection  of  her  peril  then. 
The  days  came  when  the  tender-hearted  Miss 
Forsythe  went  about  the  house  restless,  impatient, 
tearful,  waiting  for  a  summons  that  was  sure  to 
come  when  she  w^as  needed.  She  thought  only  of 
her  child,  as  she  called  her,  and  all  the  tenderness 
of  her  nature  was  stirred — these  years  of  cloud 
and  separation  and  pain  were  as  they  had  not 
been.  Little  Margaret  had  promised  to  send  for 
her.  She  would  not  obtrude  before  she  was  want 
ed,  but  Margaret  was  certain  to  send.  And  she  was 
ready  for  departure  the  instant  the  despatch  came 
from  Henderson — "Margaret  wants  you  to  come 
at  once."  I  went  with  her. 

In  calamity,  trouble,  sorrow,  it  is  wonderful  how 
the  ties  of  blood  assert  themselves.  In  this  hour  I 
am  sure  that  Margaret  longed  for  no  one  more 
than  her  dear  aunt,  in  whose  arms,  as  a  child,  she 
had  so  often  forgotten  her  griefs.  She  had  been 
able  to  live  without  her — nay,  for  a  long  time  her 
presence  had  been  something  of  a  restraint  and  a 
rebuke,  and  her  feelings  had  hardened  towards  her. 
Why  is  it  that  the  heart  hardens  in  prosperity  ? 

When  we  arrived  Margaret  was  very  ill.  The 
house  itself  had  a  serious  air:  it  was  no  longer 
the  palace  of  festivity  and  gayety,  precautions 
had  been  taken  to  secure  quiet,  the  pavement 


392  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

was  littered,  and  within  the  hushed  movements 
and  the  sombre  looks  spoke  of  apprehension  and 
the  absence  of  the  spirit  that  had  been  the  life  and 
light  of  the  house.  Our  arrival  seemed  to  be  a 
relief  to  Henderson.  Little  was  said.  I  had  never 
before  seen  him  nervous,  never  before  so  restless 
and  anxious,  probably  never  before  in  all  his  career 
had  he  been  unnerved  with  a  sense?  of  his  own 
helplessness. 

"  She  has  been  asking  for  you  this  moment,"  he 
said,  as  he  accompanied  Miss  Forsythe  to  Mar 
garet's  apartment. 

"  Dear,  dear  aunt,  I  knew  you  would  come — I 
love  you  so ;"  she  had  tried  to  raise  herself  a  little 
in  her  bed,  and  was  sobbing  like  a  child  in  her 
aunt's  arms. 

"  You  must  have  courage,  Margaret ;  it  will  all 
be  well." 

"  Yes,  but  I'm  so  discouraged  ;  I'm  so  tired." 

The  vigil  began.  The  nurses  were  in  waiting. 
The  family  physician  would  not  leave  the  house. 
He  was  a  man  of  great  repute  in  his  profession. 
Dr.  Seftel's  name  was  well  known  to  me,  but  I  had 
never  met  him  before ;  a  man  past  middle  life, 
smooth  shaven,  thin  iron-gray  hair,  grave,  usually 
taciturn,  deliberate  in  all  his  movements,  as  if  every 
gesture  were  important  and  significant,  but  with  a 
kindly  face.  Knowing  that  every  moment  of  his 
waking  life  was  golden,  I  could  not  but  be  im- 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  393 

pressed  with  the  power  that  could  command  his 
exclusive  service  for  an  indefinite  time.  When  he 
came  down,  we  talked  together  in  Henderson's 
room. 

"  It  is  a  question  of  endurance,  of  constitution," 
he  said  ;  "  many  weak  women  have  this  quality  of 
persistence ;  many  strong  women  go  to  pieces  at 
once ;  we  know  little  about  it.  Mrs.  Henderson  " — 
glancing  about  him — "  has  everything  to  live  for  ; 
that's  in  her  favor.  I  suppose  there  are  not  two 
other  men  in  the  country  whose  fortune  equals 
Henderson's." 

I  do  not  know  how  it  was,  probably  the  patient 
was  not  forgotten,  but  in  a  moment  the  grave  doc 
tor  was  asking  me  if  I  had  seen  the  last  bulletin 
about  the  yacht  regatta.  He  took  the  keenest  in 
terest  in  the  contest,  and  described  to  me  the  build 
and  sailing  qualities  of  the  different  yachts  entered, 
and  expressed  his  opinion  as  to  which  would  win, 
and  why.  From  this  he  passed  to  the  city  govern 
ment  and  the  recent  election  —  like  a  true  New 
Yorker,  his  chief  interest  centred  in  the  city  poli 
tics  and  not  in  the  national  elections.  Without  the 
least  unbending  from  his  dignity,  he  told  me  many 
anecdotes  about  city  politicians,  which  would  have 
been  amusing  if  I  had  not  been  anxious  about  other 
things. 

The  afternoon  passed,  and  the  night,  and  the 
day,  I  cannot  tell  how.  But  at  evening  I  knew  by 


394:  A-  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

the  movements  in  the  house  that  the  crisis  had 
come.  I  was  waiting  in  Henderson's  library.  An 
hour  passed,  when  Henderson  came  hurrying  in, 
pale,  excited,  but  joyous. 

"  Thank  God,"  he  cried,  "  it  is  a  boy  !" 

"And  Margaret?"  I  gasped. 

u  Is  doing  very  well !"  He  touched  a  bell,  and 
gave  an  order  to  the  servant.  "  We  will  drink  to 
the  dear  girl  and  to  the  heir  of  the  house." 

He  was  in  great  spirits.  The  doctor  joined  us, 
but  I  noticed  that  he  was  anxious,  and  he  did  not 
stay  long.  Henderson  was  in  and  out,  talking,  ex 
cited,  restless.  But  everything  was  going  very 
well,  he  thought.  At  last,  as  we  sat  talking,  a  serv 
ant  appeared  at  the  door,  with  a  frightened  look. 

"  The  baby,  sir !" 

"What?" 

Alas  !  there  had  been  an  heir  of  the  house  of 
Henderson  for  just  two  hours ;  and  Margaret  was 
not  sustaining  herself. 

Why  go  on  ?  Henderson  was  beside  himself ; 
stricken  with  grief,  enraged,  I  believe,  as  well,  at 
the  thought  of  his  own  impotence.  Messengers 
Avere  despatched,  a  consultation  was  called.  The 
best  skill  of  the  city,  at  any  cost,  was  at  Margaret's 
bedside.  Was  there  anything,  then,  that  money 
could  not  do  ?  How  weak  we  are  ! 

The  next  day  the  patient  was  no  better,  she  was 
evidently  sinking.  The  news  went  swiftly  round 


A  Little  Journey  in  the  World.  395 

the  city.  It  needed  a  servant  constantly  at  the 
door  to  answer  the  stream  of  sympathetic  inquirers. 
Reporters  were  watching  the  closed  house  from  the 
opposite  pavement.  I  undertook  to  satisfy  some 
of  them  who  gained  the  steps  and  came  forward, 
civil  enough,  and  note-books  in  hand,  when  the  door 
was  opened.  This  intrusion  of  curiosity  seemed  so 
dreadful. 

The  great  house  was  silent.  How  vain  and 
empty  and  pitiful  it  all  seemed  as  I  wandered  alone 
through  the  gorgeous  apartments  !  What  a  mock 
ery  it  all  was  of  the  tragedy  impending  above- 
stairs — the  approach  on  list-shod  feet  of  the  great 
enemy !  Let  us  not  be  unjust.  lie  would  have 
come  just  the  same  if  his  prey  had  lain  in  a  farm 
house  among  the  hills,  or  in  a  tenement-house  in  0 
Street. 

A  day  and  a  night,  and  another  day — and  then ! 
It  was  Miss  Forsythe  who  came  down  to  me,  with 
strained  eyes  and  awe  in  her  face.  It  needed  no 
Avords.  She  put  her  face  upon  my  shoulder,  and 
sobbed  as  if  her  heart  were  broken. 

I  could  not  stay  in  the  house.  I  went  out  into 
the  streets,  the  streets  brilliant  in  the  sun  of  an 
autumn  day,  into  the  town,  gay,  bustling,  crowded, 
pulsing  with  vigorous  life.  How  blue  the  sky  was ! 
The  sparrows  twittered  in  Madison  Square,  the 
idlers  sat  in  the  sun,  the  children  chased  their 
hoops  about  the  fountain. 


396  A  Little  Journey  in  the  World. 

I  wandered  into  the  club.  The  news  had  preced 
ed  me  there.  More  than  one  member  in  the  read 
ing-room  grasped  my  hand,  Avith  just  a  word  of 
sympathy.  Two  young  fellows,  whom  I  had  last 
seen  at  the  Henderson  dinner,  were  seated  at  a 
small  table. 

"  It's  rough,  Jack  " — the  speaker  paused,  with  a 
match  in  his  hand — "it's  rough.  I'll  be  -  -  if  she 
was  not  the  finest  woman  I  ever  knew." 

My  wife  and  I  were  sitting  in  the  orchestra  stalls 
of  the  Metropolitan.  The  opera  was  Siegfried.  At 
the  close  of  the  first  act,  as  we  turned  to  the  house, 
we  saw  Carmen  enter  a  box,  radiant,  in  white. 
Henderson  followed,  and  took  a  seat  a  little  in 
shadow  behind  her.  There  were  others  in  the  box. 
There  wras  a  little  movement  and  flutter  as  they 
came  in  and  glasses  were  turned  that  way. 

"  Married,  and  it  is  only  two  years,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  only  a  year  and  eight  months,"  my  wife 
replied. 

And  the  world  goes  on  as  cheerfully  and  pros 
perously  as  ever. 


THE    END. 


=)t. 


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